Losing Innocence
by tagalonglovers
Summary: An Admiral’s murdered daughter brings back not only a case file from Tony’s past in Baltimore but a serial killer as well. *first chapter is a prologue*
1. Expectations

**Losing Innocence….Tigerlily1221**

**Summary:** An Admiral's murdered daughter brings back not only a case file from Tony's past in Baltimore but a serial killer as well. first chapter is a prologue

Chapter 1 is more of a prologue which tells about the victim but from then on it's about the team and the reason this murder is so special.

Disclaimer: This is all just a figment of my imagination…too bad.

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Chapter 1-Not Up to Expectations 

Pulsating, brain-numbing music echoed from the speakers. It was pounding and vibrating, each note was shockingly loud. Almost overpowering her thoughts, so all she wanted to do was move. It was so loud that it felt like she could become one of the lead guitarist's notes. Almost as if she should grab her own Les Paul upstairs and join them.

The music was coming from speakers attached to the fences around the Marcello family home. This one was an older song, something to make the older people happy and the teens cringe as their parents and relatives tried to get "down and dirty".

It was going to be a fun. Drinks were being sneaked from the two large and filled coolers by the western end of her fence while the picky more spoiled others went to the cabana by her large pool, where a bartender was situated. He just happened to "look away", whenever her underage friends wanted a taste.

It was a cool, clear summer night in D.C. The night was breezy but the humidity from the morning still lingered in the air. It frizzed up her carefully made curls and stuck the silky fabric to the back of her legs.

The party had been planned for months. It was a graduation/ birthday party for Ms. Christina Little. Christina Little was turning eighteen and entering her college years. Her parents were hosting a party for her and it was the one day she was looking forward to all through senior year.

"Oh crap," she muttered drawing the attention from her two friends.

"What's the matter Chris?" her cousin and friend Angela asked. She sipped noisily on her margarita and giggled loudly at the noise. Being only twenty, she wasn't legally allowed to drink, but still she bended the law getting drunk way to many times than she should have.

"I spilled cake on my dress. I'll be right back." She said standing up and using a napkin to wipe away the setting stain.

"oh just leave it. Have fun and go dance with me!" Angela exclaimed sipping the drink again, though this time her movements were slow and she seemed to be having trouble focusing.

"No, if I don't do this now the dress will be ruined," she muttered, gesturing to the red sauce stain on the lush sage material.

"Fine, I'll go talk to Sophie. Maybe Frank got boring." Angela rolled her eyes and stood up slowly. She swayed.

"Sweetie, maybe you should stay here with Kay," Christina said putting her arms on Angela's and forcing her to sit back down. She turned to Kaylee Sanchez. "Don't bother telling my parents and watch Ang please"

"Sure girlie though I don't think your mum's going to notice. I think she and your father have already have too much." Kaylee said winking and pointing to Christina's parents who were stumbling through the moves of the Macarena.

Feeling a blush emerging on her face, she pushed through the crowd. She rolled her eyes and mumbled an apology as she bumped into another teen couple that was making out in the bushes near her back door.

Her house was so congested. All of the bunches of people who wanted to have a safe haven from the summer heat and the mosquitoes had taken to staying in her den and kitchen. It was also there that her parents had rented out a second bartender to mix exotic drinks.

Slipping around the corner, with half a wine glass full of strawberry daiquiri, she entered the bathroom she shared with her sister willing with her mind that people would take the closed door as a sign that they couldn't go into it. She didn't want a reminder of last months fun. Only one drunk encounter was all she needed before college life officially began.

Patting her dress clean she discreetly left the bathroom, through the open window. She climbed down the ivy terrace, a very difficult task in her two-inch heels, and left for the quiet of her favorite maple tree near the mailbox.

She felt like she was caught in between. She wanted the party but she didn't. She would give anything just to be in her quiet bedroom and not have all of her friends and very loud and incredibly nosy Italian relatives surrounding and watching her every move.

But then another part of her just wanted to go dance with them. _No_, she counseled herself. _He said __**he**__ would be here any moment._

Sometimes she hated her studious, responsible nature. She wanted to be wild and outrageous just for once.

Having a secret boyfriend was that excitement. It made her feel rebellious and risky. The thrill of meeting her secret lover once a week filled her with an incredible amount of fire. No matter what perfect studious image she put in front of her parents, deep inside she wanted to be like some of the other girls in her school. She just wanted to be accepted.

To most people she was a lovely good girl. Now as she turned eighteen and had to spend all of those years as that persona she was sick of it. She wanted to be rebellious. She still wanted to be a pediatrician but first she wanted to have fun.

He was perfect for fun.

Reaching the mailbox, she put her head in her hands as she slid down to sit on the curb.

Sometimes she wondered what would happen if she could just have a normal life, if her father wasn't such a known figure. What if he was just a normal businessman like her Sophie's father was? Her life would be so much more simpler. What would happen if she could do whatever she wanted and not have to worry?

She didn't want to think such horrible thoughts about her father but in the quiet, serene darkness, her pesky feelings escaped.

Her father was overprotective. He spent way too much time hanging over her shoulder. It was wonderful to have him home, but he seemed to still feel that she was still a young naïve nine year old and she needed protecting. Maybe it was just his paternal instinct knowing that she was at a tender age where many young women were hurt. He demanded to know every part of her life and who her current boyfriend was.

Sometimes she wondered what would happen if she could just have a normal life, if her father wasn't such a known figure. What if he was just a normal businessman like her Sophie's father was? Her life would be so much more simpler. What would happen if she could do whatever she wanted and not have to worry?

"Hey!" a voice nearly made her jump four feet in the air. She spun around to see the person. In the dim light from the party she could see the outline of one of her male best friends.

"Oh lord! At least give me some warning the next time you decide to sneak up behind me." She whispered leaning into the man's chest.

"Well than what's the point in sneaking up behind you?" he whispered back gently pressing her into a kiss. They stepped underneath a blossoming cherry tree for more privacy and deepened their kiss. As she kissed and pushed into his chest wanting more, he withdrew a small handgun from his pocket.

He reached behind her back and still holding the gun, placed the butt in the middle of her back.

She froze as the gun dug into her vertebrae and bony frame. She whimpered as she caught sight of the man she had come to trust with a grotesque smile on his face.

He turned back to her and with hand on the gun he handed her thick rope. Motioning for her to tie it around her ankles, she knelt down to her feet and wrapped them around her ankles.

The man knelt down and gently caressed her cheek, with tenderness that she never thought was possible, and also tied her hands together. Revealing a small roll of duct tape from a sports bag next to him, he gently shushed her whimpering and placed the two-inch thick tape around her mouth.

Tears rolling down her pale cheeks, she allowed the man to unzip her dress. He tugged the dress of her small frame. Leaving her only in her bra and underwear, he too undressed. She closed her eyes, wishing that she could be elsewhere.

In almost an instant, he had leapt on top of her and began to violate her.

In a few minutes they were finished, leaving him panting for breath and feeling nearly euphoric and her whimpering in pain and curled tightly into a ball.

He was filled with anger in an instant. All of the women, especially his ex-wife, that he had had sex with had wanted more, had an unquenchable thirst for more that sometimes he couldn't give. Now the night that he had taken something extra to help his situation the little bitch didn't want anymore. He should have chosen a different girl, someone who was older, more experienced.

Staring at her in disgust, he forced himself to think about the true reason he was there. He was supposed to be delivering a message.

He knelt down near her trembling body and turned her over sitting on her upper thighs and lower abdomen to keep her facing up. He redressed her and he pulled out his previously discarded 9mm gun and put the gun to her chest.

He leaned against her and dug through the bag for an item, not worried about her attacking him. A smile tugging at the corner of his lips he fitted the homemade silencer to the gun.

She whimpered again and closed her eyes shut murmuring something. He cocked his head and watched as she continued mumbling. He glanced at her hands and saw that they were clasped as you would to pray.

He rolled his eyes, _oh great just his luck. He had found a Catholic…she was probably condemning him to forever live with Satan. _This new act deserved something special.

Grinning at the thought to do something else, he pulled the trigger, letting the bullet fly through the air quietly. It struck her body with a thump. Her body jerked back and it hit the thick tree trunk leaving a large burgundy smear on the bark.

She gasped for breath, luckily he had hit a lung, maybe about two inches diagonal to her heart. She gurgled as her thick blood pushed through her throat.

Thick streams of blood combined with her tears as he leaned over and thrust a knife into her abdomen. The thick stream traveled from the wounds to the ground around her body in seconds.

Taking a second knife he carved deep into the body, carefully listening for the telltale signs of someone taking note of Christina's disappearance.

Cutting and slicing her poor white colored flesh until her body was limp with blood loss. The man smiled wickedly, his eyes glowing with pride of his killing and watching the life drain from Christina Little's pretty face.

He then reached into his now filthy sports bag and pulled out a pair of gloves and a bottle of bleach. Expertly he cleaned the scene, being careful not to leave any footprints or other marks to identify him.

Grinning in pure delight he gunned the engine of his car and drove to his newly rented apartment. He was so excited that he could barely restrain himself to driving within the speed limit.

He was glad that he had killed that girl. If he didn't do it for the thrill of the kill than he did it for the enjoyment of watching Detective Anthony DiNozzo's face when he saw his artwork.

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I feel incredibly stupid for starting another long story when I already have one in the making but I needed to get it out really badly. I hope you'll agree. Reviews are really appreciated; I enjoy constructive criticism because I want to become a better writer. Thanks for the support! 

Luvs, Ari


	2. Shock

Title: Losing Innocence

Author: TigerLily1221

I swear to God, I do not think I could have that many emails! It was an amazing response and I love you guys so much for doing this. I was really freaking out that maybe I wouldn't get any response and you guys brightened my day so much! Thank you and I hope you enjoy!!

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**Chapter 2-A Pretty Big Shock**

"I once knew a young woman just like you. I had just come to the United States and met a lovely woman just like you. She and I had several wonderful nights together but she was killed in a dreadful accident. She was a very pretty like you, dear. She had several dogs, mother liked her very much…" Ducky began as he checked the body.

"Time of death, Duck?" Gibbs interrupted examining the teenager's body. She must have been very pretty when she was alive. She had red hair that was fanned out under her bloodied body and her brown eyes were wide. Her emerald green dress was fitting awkwardly on her, as if someone had redressed her and it was stained with blood.

"Three or four hours ago," he answered lifting the liver probe out of the girl. "About right for the time the girl's sister said she found her."

"How about cause of death?" Gibbs asked.

"Well Jethro from my quick examination she was killed by blood loss and ultimate strain on her heart. She has multiple stab wounds and a clear gunshot to the torso. This poor dear, died within fifteen minutes, Jethro" He paused for a minute and examined the stab wound near upper chest. "I would say that the killer stabbed this one post-mortem. You can clearly see no blood loss from this one," He gestured to the other two stab wounds. "These on the other hand, were pre-mortem."

"Interesting Duck. What kind of knife do you think was used?"

"It has a jagged edge, so I'm thinking a serrated knife, mostly likely from a chef's set. But these cuts over here are from a carving knife. Which increases my suspicions that the killer is a chef."

"Carving knife? You'll have to do better than that Duck, you can order carving knives anywhere. When Ziva and I question the witnesses I'll see about the chef." He sighed.

"Of course Jethro. Though I haven't found an exit wound, the bullet is either lodged in between her bronchi tubes or is somewhere over there." He gestured to where an even bigger blood pool was by the mailbox, a foot or two away. "As soon as Mr. Palmer returns here with the body bag, we'll go back to the morgue to do a full examination. We must remind Mr. Palmer to remember the body bag next time. Maybe, you my dear, can help Mr. Palmer remember." He smiled sadly. "Poor dear, you suffered very much in the end. I don't suppose I finished telling you about Corrine," Ducky said turning back to the body and his story. Gibbs didn't hear, he had turned his back to Ducky and began questioning the numerous people surrounding the scene.

"You know _Zee-vah_, if you let me drive we could have gotten here faster and not have gotten lost." Tony voice passed through the trees as Gibbs' three other agents arrived at the scene.

"How was I suppose to know that Crystal Brook Road and Crystal Brook Ridge Housing were the same?" Ziva's outraged voice carried through the air as she slammed the driver's door shut.

"Well you know Ziva there is such a thing as maps and google and oh, I don't know, asking questions." Tony said as they appeared near the Little's mailbox looking a little green.

"You're late to the crime scene. DiNozzo sketch and photograph the body before Ducky removes it. McGee measure and photograph. David question the party guests and find any witnesses." Gibbs said walking off to the other side of the yard.

"On it boss." Tony answered. He strutted purposely to the murder scene and flashed one of his patent grins to a female officer outside the tape causing both Ziva and McGee to groan loudly.

He stepped closer to the body, nearly regretting it. It wasn't the body or the smell of decomposing flesh that made him want to scream and run to the nearest bush and vomit the recently eaten sandwich but the way that the body was positioned and all the pieces that were put together to create the horrifying scene.

It made him feel like a rookie. It wasn't his first homicide but he sure felt the same as he had. But the scene was so familiar. It was almost as if he'd gone back in time.

Tony closed his eyes and bit his lip. If he opened his eyes and was back in Baltimore, a detective badge attached to his belt he was going to check himself into a mental hospital. He could almost swear it was exactly like being at the last crime scene with the last victim. He could almost hear his partner, Mike Danford, talking with the person that found the body…

"Tony?" Tony's eyes snapped opened, almost relieved that he was in D.C.

"That's a very interesting shade of white, isn't it McGee?" Ziva asked as she walked to the people crowding around the tape.

"Yeah, it is Ziva," He chuckled at Tony's face that looked like a sheet.

"What Probie?" he answered clearing his throat and diverting his attention from the victim to McGee who was on the opposite side of the body and watching him curiously.

"Why are you looking so weird?" he asked. "You know the victim? Did you meet her at a bar or something?" He asked so many questions and none of them were laced with fear of asking like they used to. It almost made Tony feel irritated that McGee was actually starting to gain confidence in his investigative abilities.

"Probie, this girl is hardly old enough to go to college let alone go to a bar."

"She could have a really good fake." McGee added.

"Yea McGee and she'll wear a bib and a pacifier to a club. Plus, from the way that the parents are hounding the police officers while the'yre hungover, I really don't think her parents let her have that much freedom."

"How do you know? How do you they don't get completely wasted every night?" Tony made a tsk noise.

"You poor innocent Probie." He swallowed a laugh. "Her father's an admiral, he's over seas about 90 percent of the time, I hardly think that he's getting drunk every night. The mother she's also something important." He continued photographing taking into consideration what McGee said not including what he knew about her death.

"Fine. Why did you look so weird?" McGee asked moving around the body with his own camera.

"I don't McGeek." He answered. "She reminds me of someone." Truthfully, Tony had never seen the girl nor would he ever date her. He didn't have anything against her, she was definitely pretty but wasn't his type. She still had a childish baby face and long red hair. He was more of a brunette/blonde type of guy. And well, her being dead and pretty cut up was a very big point of confusion.

Tony snapped a photo of her pale face, brown eyes wide, mouth parted slightly, with a string of dried blood trailing from her mouth to a puddle near her head.

He felt sick.

He was _telling_ the truth, maybe not the entire truth about everything but then again how could he tell McGee that the guy would murdered eighteen year old Alexandra Little was in prison for life.

Six years ago, he and Mike and put the guy away. Or at least they thought they did. How the hell did he do this if he was locked in jail?

Once again his thought were jumbled as he thought about the killings and that man. Oh, he was the one that interrogated him…the man had just kept repeating that he was innocent…he should have double-checked the evidence.

Damn it! The guy had had a pretty good alibi too. Both he and his wife had said that they were home for the last girl's murder but because there were no videos as concrete evidence they had arrest him.

"Tony?" McGee asked. Tony snapped his gaze from the wounds on the body to the agent standing next to him. "What is wrong with you Tony?"

"Ahh…nothing" Tony said. "This girl just reminded me of the cute redhead girl I slept with last night." He wagged his eyebrows and grinned.

McGee rolled his eyes, not realizing yet that Tony's lie had just contradicted what he had said before. Instead, he began to process some of the pieces of evidence. A bloodied handkerchief lay near the girl. It was lavishly decorated and appeared to be specially embroidered. He put it in an evidence bag for Abby.

"Anything?" Gibbs loud voice echoed through the trees as both he and Ziva arrived through the bushes covering the fence leading to the backyard. Both Tony and McGee were searching the length of the trees surrounding the scene for stray bullets or casings.

"Not yet, boss." Tony answered. He bent down to look at the brick mailbox. It seemed either by chance or maybe Gibbs was just a lucky charm but squished into the brick mailbox was a 9mm bullet.

McGee opened an evidence bag and Tony dropped the small object in.

"We're just about finished," McGee said. He placed an empty medicine bottle in an evidence bag and stood up. Tony stood up too and let Jimmy Palmer cross with the body bag.

"Look what I found. I don't think you searched too hard McGee" Ziva asked holding up a knife in her gloved hand.

Tony barely suppressed a groan. Christina Little's killer had almost the exact same pieces of evidence as the previous crime scenes. Either this guy was taking the guy's special 'murder 101' class through jail or it was the same killer. There was no other way that someone could have copied the exact details of the crime down to the pretend knife.

"Nice work David. Let's get back and give Abby that evidence." Gibbs said. McGee collected his own evidence bags while Tony snapped the sketchpad shut.

Sighing, Tony turned around one last time to look at the scene. Without the body the square that the yellow crime scene tape enclosed looked empty. Take away the officers guarding the scene from the civilians and the massive blood pool, that section of the street could have been an excellent place to stay cool during the summer heat. Now, however, it was going to remind the neighborhood that their neighbor's child was killed there. It was saddening really, if only Christina Little hadn't been the target there lives would have gone off as normal.

Now however, the Little family joined the ranks of the victim's family with the other eight families. If only she hadn't been killed. If only they had found the right guy the first time. If only…

There were so many other if onlys. Sighing heavily and shifting his backpack to his other shoulder, Tony dropped into the passenger side of the NCIS truck.

During the ride back, Tony came to a realization. If Christina Little had gotten away, if she had left him and really had left for college, it would have only been a matter of time before the killer killed another and added her to his growing number of dead girls.

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Hey, I hope you enjoyed that one! Leave your—uh—feelings about it by clicking the beautiful purple(blue?) button below? 

Since I KNOW that you all will, I have a small question, I have either a horrible obsession with commas or a comma phobia, and since I'm a perfectionist, I know that the sentence structure isn't right but I don't know how to fix it. Would it absolutely kill anyone to offer to look my future chapters over for grammar problems?

You can be my hero(Enrique Iglesias style!) and I would love you forever. Haha anyway, thanks for reviewing hope you enjoyed!

Luvs, Ari


	3. Questionable

**Losing Innocence**…

Disclaimer: Nope….

Slightly more…uh…quirky chapter Enjoy!

Oh, and the Btw, the people that review are the most amazing in this whole world. It's amazing and fantasillistic that you all want to spent 2 minutes to review this piece my imagination conjured. Thank you!

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Chapter 3- Questionable Actions 

He was trying to stay calm...to act natural. He had cracked some of the usual banter between Ziva and flung some tiny paper balls at McGee but it lacked the usual gusto.

He wasn't focused…he couldn't focus on anything.

He had smiled that DiNozzo grin and flirted up the receptionists, thrown egotistical remarks at Ziva until everyone threatened to write up a report but the normal Tony wasn't entirely there.

Now however, Tony was reading a police report from years ago and was purposely annoying Ziva by humming the Mission Impossible song.

"Tony, do you think that you could sit still and stay quiet for five minutes?" Ziva exclaimed. She held her phone in her hand and a pencil in her other, waiting for information on a sedan that two witnesses had seen.

Tony looked up from his computer. "Well, I'm sure I could stay still if someone lovely were to help me. I think that that you could come up with something that could keep me still."

She smirked. "Oh, I believe that there's something." She laughed teasingly cocking her eyebrows. His face fell as he envisioned what she could be thinking of, ranging from a leather whip to Chinese water torture. He gulped at his slightly psychotic fantasy, almost imagining he could enjoy it.

He shuddered visibly making her cackle. She stood up and just before she would be able to make her way over to his desk she had to refocuse her attention on a stream of information given through the phone.

He turned back to the computer where he was not working on trailing the maker of the handkerchief.

Who would have know that each Seamstresses had their own signature? And he honestly didn't know why he was playing such an act to find out who created the napkin. He already knew.

It was always the same. The little Italian seamstress, Mama Peruchi, who would say that one guy came in about six years ago and bought a pack of twelve handmade handkerchiefs that looked exactly like that with cash. They would follow the lead and it would be bought in cash and _ta_da another dead end.

He really should have told Gibbs but he didn't want to get booted off the case. It was terrible to think of, but he wanted to personally catch this guy and maybe once he was able to channel Ziva's manic killing style, he could finally get him.

Of course, it would be incredibly fulfilling to put him behind bars but that was Plan B.

He shook his head. Ziva was rubbing off on him. He really didn't want to spend time at home sharpening his knife's blade. He shuddered.

He _did_ hope that McGee and Abby were having more luck. If they could get just one shot of the killer on the video from the house/mailbox they might just be able to get him once and for all.

That was one reason he loved all of those murders at rich fancy houses, they all had cameras.

If that didn't work out maybe Abby could get prints off of the knife. Well it was a start to somewhere…even if the prints came back to an ex-con cadaver.

At every crime scene there were the same clues. The handkerchief from the store and a knife. The last crime scene in Baltimore they had found fingerprints and traced them to a one time car stealer. They had arrested him to murder when they reexamined the handkerchief and found his fingerprints in the young woman's blood and on the handbag that was next to her. They had arrested the guy and told Baltimore that they had arrested the killer. The real killer must have been flying high, thinking that he had gotten away with murder. This time he wouldn't get away.

The crime scene was getting to him. Every memory, every fucking painful memory, was shooting back at him. He, as the head detective on the case file, had to inform the family that they couldn't find the killer and that any leads had gone cold.

More than anything, Tony hated when they had to talk to the family members. It was like the medical shows and the surgeon walks into the waiting room, his faced forced into the somber expression, and tell the saddening fact that the family already had suspicions of knowing.

Tony had walked out of the office and with his face locked in a tight grimace, he explained with a sad note to his voice that their daughter or son's murder would go on as a cold case.

Tony had often felt like that it was his fault. Mike, being on the force longer and having seniority, had forced Tony into becoming the bearer of bad news for the families.

He hated seeing the pain rushed through their faces and the sadness. At first they were angry, especially the women. They would yell and hit, some having to be dragged away by their husbands only to collapse under their heavy cascade of sobs that wracked at their already broken body. Some were just so miserable, already so depressed with the fact that their baby was dead that they didn't even seem to comprehend that they hadn't been able to find their killer.

He stayed for a few minutes to show his sympathy and his guilt for not finding her killer.

Sure it was a depressing job, but some days it actually made him want to get up in the morning. The amazing feeling he had when they did find the murderer and could proudly push the bastard into the holding cells.

"What have you gotten so far?" Gibbs shouted as he stomped into the bullpen an extra large coffee in his clamped hand. The cup seemed to be collapsing under the pressure Gibbs' was putting on the plastic and now had an hourglass shape. Tony understood how he felt, everyone in NCIS did, cases that involved children always got to them, especially sweet delicate children that were murdered so brutally.

"The lead on the car that the witnesses saw was a dead end. I checked with Motor Vehicles and they don't have any silver Toyota Camrys with the license plate beginning with 6AV2 in DC. So either the eyewitnesses got the model wrong or they got the wrong license plate numbers." Ziva said hanging up the phone. "And then of course we can't forget the 'smokin' hot pink Jeep another said they saw." She rolled her eyes. "Most of them just made something up so they wouldn't get punished for underage drinking. "

"DiNozzo? What do you have?" Tony checked his notes and stood up. Using the remote for the plasma he showed the photograph that McGee took.

"This design is patented by Mother Peruchi's Seamstress Shop. She's in Baltimore."

"Didn't you work in Baltimore?" Ziva asked sipping at her coffee. Gibbs was watching him curiously. His eyes were sharp, searching for any clue that Tony could be using to purposely misleading to the investigation of the Admiral's daughter.

"Yeah, but even I don't know every shop in Baltimore." He said with ease. Choosing carefully he chose to use his 'I'm not lying so don't look so worried" grin. The same exact one that he used to get suspects to relax during interrogations and the same one that he used in undercover ops.

Even though Tony had turned back to his computer to get the correct address of the shop he still felt that Gibbs was watching him.

"Go to—"

"Yeah, yeah, we know. Go to the shop and question the woman".

Getting their guns and packs from the drawers, he and Ziva left for the Seamstress' shop.

After an uncomfortable silence in the close quarters of the federal ordered sedans, Ziva was eager to get to the woman's shop. Tony had been unnaturally quiet during the half an hour drive to Baltimore.

Wanting to spend some time thinking Ziva had let Tony drive. What was with Tony today? In the morning she had seen his actions when he first saw the body. She had watched him carefully, taking note of his body language and expressions.

He had stopped short about five meters into the scene and had turned ashen. McGee snapped his fingers in front of his unresponsive face and tapped his shoulder. Tony had jumped and spun around, his eyes wide with confusion. Almost like he expected to open his eyes somewhere else. She had thrown in a remark about his color to see his reaction. Not even to goad him but to actually show a touch of concern that she had limited to letting only certain people see. He hadn't even seemed to hear her but McGee began to probe the thin layer of control he had over his emotions.

She had to give him credit. Tony had kept that control and seemed to add more and more control to it as McGee prodded again and again. If it was a normal occasion, where he wasn't acting so weird, he would have smirked and muttered something disgusting until McGee laughed it off as doing something DiNozzo-_ish_.

He had nodded and continued photographing the body with reservations. His behavior was confusing to Ziva. Body language was the same in all countries and Tony's behavior was definitely odd.

The second time that he had spaced off he had eased off McGee's questions with laughter, pretending that he had been thinking about one night stand.

Ziva had silently questioned his explanation and left their group to continue with questioning other suspects including her hungover parents and her fifteen year old crying sister and brother.

Thinking about it now, it probably would have been more explanatory if she stayed with the guys and listened to their conversation. It had gone a whole lot better than hers had. The parents were angry, crying and in between several other moods while Ziva could hardly get out a word from her siblings.

"Mrs. Peruchi?" Ziva called out as Tony held the door open for her and they both stepped into the tiny shop.

A young woman popped out of the farthest aisle and smiled.

"No sorry sweetie, I'm Rachel DeGenero, her daughter. I took over her shop last year when she passed away but I couldn't get myself to change the name." She stood up and stretched. Reaching the counter with the cash register and the list of appointments. "Ah, you must be the Cormans. I have the perfect designs for your baby's nursery duvet. I looked through my books and I found a design that my mother created a couple of years ago." She handed them a picture of a lacy white duvet that was embroidered with tiny blue storks.

"Uh…Ms. DeGenero, we're not married" She turned from the woman to Tony. "And I'm not pregnant," Ziva said looking very disgusted. She spun her head from the young woman who looked surprised and trying hard to not laugh at Ziva's reaction and back to Tony who was openly chuckling.

"I'm sorry dear. The Cormans are supposed to be here ten minutes ago and I assumed you two were them. You both acted like you were married and well I'm very sorry." The woman smiled and her blue eyes twinkled. "I don't suppose you two will be getting married anytime soon will you?"

Tony answered before Ziva had a chance. "Sadly, we won't yet. Maybe we'll come back here next year to get some linens." Ziva smacked him Gibbs style. He rubbed his arm. "Or not."

Ziva rolled her eyes. She showed the woman her badge. I am Mossad Officer David and this is Special Agent DiNozzo. We're with NCIS." He flashed his badge also and sat down in one of the armchairs in the center of the store. Ziva sat down on the other available chair "We're investigating the murder of Christina Little. We tracked evidence to this shop."

She looked at them oddly. "Little? I know that name." She stared off into space for a minute before jumping up to grab a large book of prints. "I knew her aunt I believe. Lydia Little." She sighed. That was a long time ago. I was just a teenager when I met Lydia but we've been friends for years. She helped my mother create many beautiful prints. Absolutely stunning designs. Lord, the poor family. I must send them a fruit basket."

Ziva and Tony exchange quick glances, gawking at the short attention span and emotional range this woman had.

"Uh, alright." Ziva muttered. "Ms. DeGenero, we were actually wondering if you might be able to identify which one of the designs this might be." Ziva handed over a picture of the handkerchief.

"Oh I remember this one. Lovely design, my mother spent a week or two working on getting this one perfect." She sighed. "Beautiful, beautiful."

"Ms. DeGenero, could you please look for more information about anyone that bought this design."

"Of course, dears. Give me just five minutes to look for the sales and merchandise book. Its stuck somewhere in my office." She walked around the other side of the counter and through the door leading to the backroom.

"So, Mrs. DiNozzo are you having a boy or a girl?" Tony asked groaning in pain as Ziva jabbed him hard in the ribs.

"You're an asshole!" she cried, jabbing him again in the ribs. "You should be very glad that I'm not in the mood to explain to the woman why there are special agent guts all over this beautiful carpet." She hissed. "Ass!!"

He opened her mouth to say something immature back her but his mouth snapped shut as the door to the backroom opened and the little bell at the top jingled merrily.

"Here we go. It's called the Sicilian Beauty." As the small build woman returned to the room with a very large binder. "It's made of an expensive silk weaved by only the finest weavers in China. The embroidery is tiny ivy vines in silver and black and then it is topped with a fine lace. The edges are then sewn together with an elaborate stitch that I can't make." She picked up the binder and turned it around to face the two agents. "That's why we discontinued it four years ago. My mother eyesight wasn't so great and her arthritis in her hands meant that she could no longer make the stitch. The product wasn't doing so well either. Not many people wanted to spend nearly $400 on a pack of twelve handkerchiefs."

"That is a lot of money to spend on a handkerchief." Ziva said whistling softly.

"Exactly. I thought my mother was insane for offering up such a price but she said it was the best."

"In 1999, how many people bought this design?" Tony questioned earning surprised glances from both the women. Ms. DeGenero shrugged her shoulders and lifted a stack of the papers and turned the pages until she got to the year 1999.

"Only three. A Mr. Alexander Wyatt, Ms. Caroline Edmins and another who bought it with cash." The young woman watched him carefully, shock near visible on her pale face. "Special Agent DiNozzo, where did you come up with that year from? I worked with my mother in July 1999 and at the time two Baltimore policemen asked me that exact same question."

"Thank you for your time Ms. DeGenero. If we have any other questions will call you. Tony wrote the names and the store's number in his notepad, ignoring the question and the woman's astonishment. Ziva also shared her thanks and left quickly following Tony.

"Where in the world did you get the year 1999 from?" she asked as they hopped into the car.

"Just a guess. Call it a former detective's instinct." He answered vaguely. "Now let's go back to D.C. and get some food. I am starving!"

She nodded half-heartedly and settled in for another quiet drive. Tony had given her another reason to watch him suspiciously. Something was definitely wrong with Anthony DiNozzo.

* * *

"Yo Tony! You got some mail. I left it on your desk," Dave Farmer, an NCIS mailroom technician, said. Winking he finished, "Oh and Tony I checked personally, there's no plague bacteria in it." Laughing at his own joke that wasn't at all funny, he rolled the mail trolley away. 

"We don't joke about the plague, Dave," he called back. Ziva watched the exchange with interest.

"Why the plague when there are millions of other horrible diseases?"

"Long story," Gibbs answered. Just as the two of them walked in from one side, he walked in from the opposite direction and into the bullpen. "What did you get?"

"Simply, it's just a fancy, expensive napkin," Ziva said. "Tony had a weird idea to check out the people buying this type in 1999. I'm not sure why though. You'll have to ask him."

Ziva and the group turned to Tony. He had a letter grasped in his hand, his face a ghostly white. He was rereading the same strip of paper, the empty envelope lay on the desk. Another object lay, wrapped in tissue paper, on the desk between his cell phone and his gun.

Suddenly, his eyes flashed with anger and he bit his lip. He was mumbling to himself, words that Ziva couldn't catch whether near him or not. He picked up the envelope, the note and the covered object, he stalked out of the bullpen and to the elevator.

* * *

I'm a little concerned about this one. I wrote out this story a while ago and spent today revising and rewriting it so I'm a little unsure about how this worked out. Who really knows? 

It shouldn't take me that long to upload the next couple of chapters considering I have off this week(!!) but just incase I forgot to finish writing them(I jump from one paragraph to the other as I think of something), leave me plenty of reviews to fuel my imagination.

Have a great President's Day!

Luvs, Ari


	4. A Wary Reminder

…**Losing Innocence**…

I swear the night I update a chapter I cannot go on the computer in fear the I'll check my email every 2 minutes to see if I have any reviews. There are two things wrong: 1) It's pointless for my email account information won't change if I keep it open to long and 2) it destroys my nerves because I freak out thinking I failed people's expectations. So, to save a lovely aspiring writer's life leave me a note of criticism.

I'm kind of unsure as to where that came from, I think my subconscious is trying to leave a message but…um to end my hyperactive rambling…Here is CHAPTER 4!

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I keep praying and hoping and wishing and dreaming….

* * *

Chapter 4- A Wary Reminder 

The obvious knowledge that something was wrong seemed to shine eminently through the bullpen. Exchanging quick almost fearful looks Ziva and McGee dove into the sliding closed elevator behind Tony and then Gibbs.

Tony was gradually returning back to his normal color but his eyes were blank and glazed as he remembered the last letter he got.

Gibbs, oddly enough, looked genuinely concerned about his Senior Field Agent. He had a hand on Tony's shoulder and reached to flick the switch on the elevator with the opposite.

Tony intercepted the hand and placed his hand over the switch, stopping Gibbs from pressing it unless he wanted to crush his fingers. He managed a gruff shake of his head and murmured his voice cracking, "Not now."

The ding of the elevator marked their presence in Abby's lab. With the music blaring and her head bopping with the music, Abby didn't notice they were there.

Leaning into the shelf, Gibbs turned off the radio. Abby didn't turn around just huffed angrily.

"I'm not finished processing the evidence, Gibbs," she said. "I'm really backed up. Agent Collins had a massacre at Wichita park. I have a lot of cigarette butts and used napkins to go through." She stopped typing but didn't turn around, paying too much attention to the computer screen. "But when I peeked at the evidence it was really weird, but not the kind of weird I like, you know the coolish weird one I like, but anyway, there aren't prints anywhere on this dress which is making me believe that he wore gloves. I mean what criminal doesn't now, since I bet everyone has seen at least one police drama before, but then I can't even find any trace amounts of latex so he must not have used latex gloves…."

"Abby," Tony said. Abby froze instantly at the drastic difference from his normal voice. The harsh frozen monotonous tone that he used when he was trying hard not to attack someone like a parent who neglected their child or a child killer seemed to McGee like it was echoing in the small room. "Could you please check these for prints, Abs. I mean immediately."

She glanced at Gibbs, unsure about what was going on with Tony but after Gibbs' tense nod she stroked Tony's fingers and gently made them unclasp the folded paper. She then took the object from his other hand and gently placed it on the desk.

Unfolding it gently, she read the note silently, only gasping softly when she read the typed message. Dropping the note into the scanner, she turned to Tony one eyebrow up in the air. She slowly smiled sympathetically and flung herself at Tony and whispered something into his ear. He listened carefully and relaxed closing his eyes and whispered something inaudible back to her.

Smiling, he shook his head and she left his side and went back to the computer as the message began to scroll across the screen.

_Dear Detective DiNozzo,_

_What hides the lies, cheats, and secrets…? _

The silence was nearly unbearable for Tony. He didn't know what to tell them. He closed his eyes remembering what Abby just told him. Her soft but husky voice was echoing her message through his head.

_It doesn't matter what happens Tony, they'd find out anyway. You may not say it out loud but you and I both know that they care for you and will help. You can let them find out now when I put it on the board or you can tell them yourself in your own time. What will it be?_

He had answered a meek, 'now' and she gave him an extra squeeze and went back to the computer as it finished scanning into the computer.

Everyone was gazing straight at the screen, as the silence lingered. He hated silences, that was the reason why he was constantly joking or rambling. He couldn't deal with the quiet contemplative silences that McGee liked. It got his brain buzzing with memories or just…shit. And that was never a good thing.

Although they were very confused, both McGee and Ziva knew better than to say something at the moment. McGee looked down at his feet, speechless. Ziva also didn't have anything to say. Tony knew that McGee felt guilty for the things that he said earlier that day. It would only be minutes now until, McGee would say something and apologize, which at the moment, Tony could not handle.

_Maybe later would be better a better time._

Tony, unable to take the quietness of the usually deafening lab, left the room quickly, almost looking liked he dived into the elevator shaft and closing the doors as soon as he was in the small room, not giving Gibbs enough time to lunge head first into the closing doors.

He was tempted to press the button to stop the elevator. Maybe he should have. It would have given him more than a minute of solace. He needed a minute to breathe and think about what happened.

Okay, so he couldn't be dead or in prison. That was a no-brainer but still needed to be crossed out. No one but the police department and, obviously, the killer knew about the last piece. He had never said a word about the case to a soul outside the department. His true friends were few and spread out. Friends outside of the department were out of the question. He barely got out of the dingy precinct to shower and sleep, he didn't have time to chat with a neighbor.

The last piece was his signature. It was the single element in any case that caused Tony's heart to race and breathing increase at the notion that maybe he could be back. It was like having fricken déjà vu constantly.

Eight women found dead in less than six months. Two woman were found a month, at separate times, starting on April 8 and continuing onward. First and last Saturday a month were the two days that Tony dreaded the most.

They captured their believed killer on the first Saturday in August. He could almost exactly remember the euphoric energy that radiated through the entire Baltimore precinct when HE was safely put in a holding cell to wait for a transport.

Tony, personally, had been exuberant. They could finally tell the parents and family of the victims that the killer was caught. There would of course be a trial and that meant endless court hours filled with forensic reports plus the overbearing, pointless attempts of the killer's attorney.

But, now it was like everything he had pieced together was crashing and burning. He could scarcely imagine the pain he would put the families into if he told them that they hadn't found the real killer. Just the thought made his throat tighten.

The large steel elevator doors opened and he stepped out of the shaft regardless of the glances and the looks.

Entering the bullpen quickly, he grabbed the cell phone on his desk and popped it open. He sat down at the desk and dropped his hand into the messy right drawer. Pulling a stack of folders out of the drawer and pulling an unidentified gooey treat off the manila folder cover he found the phone number he wanted.

"Yes, could you put me through to Baltimore Records and Reports Department?" he said, sitting at his desk and opening the drawer to find a pencil.

_Hello, this is the Baltimore PD Records Department. How may I help you? _Hearing a recognizable voice Tony smiled and relaxed.

"Hey Elisa, it Anthony DiNozzo."

He heard a gasp at the other end of the phone he grinned.

_Christ! Tony I haven't heard from you in years._ _What's the matter darlin'? I know I told you to call me sometime but not on this phone line darling. _

He smiled at the motherly tone of Elisabeth Nixon, recalling all of the consoling she had done when cases had gone bad or he just needed some calming down when his partner, Mike, had gotten controlling. Most people were taken instantly with her Southern hospitality nature but for Tony, not being used to someone so in his face, it taken some time to get used to and as a result her prodding made him become a favorite of hers.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not calling for a social visit, I need you to pull up some of my case files."

_Oh, right. What do you need?_ Her voice lost some of the bubbly tone, for a split second he could almost detect sarcasm, but that was from disappointment in knowing that he had an ulterior motive for calling her.

"Uh…Dana Cocoran all the way to Allison Lincoln? The stream of serial murders that I worked on in 2000? I need all eight of them." He sighed at the thought of looking through the boxes for what might be the millionth time. "We need everything. All of the evidence, coroner's report and pictures too." He paused. "Everything possible."

_Of course darlin.' Where do you want them sent to? _

"Let's just say that's its regarding an NCIS case. Send it to the NCIS naval yard, please. Thanks for helping me, Elisa."

_I'd do anything for you…Tony, if you don't mind me asking, why do you need these?_

"Oh nothing, you know just going over the cold cases."

_Anthony DiNozzo you can't lie to me, you never could._

He let out the breath he had been subconsciously holding while he prayed she would buy the lie. Elisabeth always knew when he was lying, that's what just added to her motherly character and made her seem that much more caring.

"Yea, from the early days on the force till getting stabbed you seem to have a sixth sense about my lies." He paused and closed his eyes, leaning back into his chair. "You know I can't tell you that Elisa."

_I know, I know. It's a case but darlin' just answer this please. Is he back?_

There was a long pause. Tony tried to figure out a way to tell the woman on the other end of the line part of the truth but in the end, there was no way.

"We think so, Elisa. We think so."

* * *

I hope you enjoyed and yes I am aware that's its very chaotic and unclear. I'm very sorry it took so long to update this I really was planning on doing this earlier but circumstances took the place of reorganizing this chapter…so this is all I have for now. And I took some major artistic license with my guesstimation of the year Tony worked with Baltimore. But I hope you liked it. 

Luvs, Ari

P.S- Oh, I'm trying to work through some kinks with Perfect. I'm not sure what happened to my beta. Either she never got my email or I have that many problems with writing that she needs almost 2 months to work out my issues. I'm personally hoping the first one.


	5. Paralyzed

**Losing Innocence**

A/N: I'm giving a humongous thanks to every single person that reviewed/added me as favorite author/story/ alerts. You're support, in anyway felt, is very uplifting. Thank you so much for this opportunity to share my imagination. 

Enjoy Chapter 5! 

* * *

**Chapter 5-Paralyzed**

The awkward silence was absolutely…awkward. There was nothing that could be said without leaving a horrible period of silence. The note, unfortunately, left little room to doubt that Tony had been part of something that wasn't pretty. 

Everything they had come to know and expect about Tony was suddenly down the toilet. His life was now part of the spectrum that most ordinary suspects were held under. Suddenly, the person they thought they knew was no longer so clear. 

After Tony left the room, the awkward silence was long lasting and four people left were speechless. For everything that Tony was made of, they never thought that he could keep quiet about something that big. He was the kind of guy that would let the whole world know that he got a paper cut but when he knew that they had a serial killer lose that he might have been actually at fault for, he didn't let out a peep.

For minutes the entire room lingered in silence. Shockingly, Abby's usual music was not blaring and so it left a lot of room for thinking. 

Abby was unnaturally silent, her eyes large like saucers. She stared at small scrap of paper, gently going through the motions to find any prints mindlessly. 

Gibbs was quietly staring into his cup, the black coffee had gone cold a long time ago. Tony's cryptic message was just the beginning of something terrible. He knew he should have called Tony out on the fake grin before and the odd way he'd been acting recently. It was only the beginning a too slippery slope. 

Ziva's insides were in turmoil. On one side, she was glad that she could pick up on Tony's feelings and that there definitely was a reason why he was acting so odd. But on the other side she couldn't believe what Tony had gotten himself into. Only he could still have a serial killer after him after so long.

McGee on the other hand, seemed to be deep in thought. 

"What the hell did this guy do to Tony?" Abby exclaimed. She spun around toward McGee and Gibbs her eyes were wide and she looked genuinely upset. 

"I don't know, Abby. It must have been very big." McGee answered his eyes squinted in concentration. "I've never seen Tony act this way." 

"Me neither. He's actually acting like it matters to him. By the way he acts on a day to day basis you would think that he doesn't care." Ziva said sipping at her coffee.

"There's where you're wrong Ziva. Very wrong." Gibbs sounded weary but his voice held inner meaning. He was worried and more than a little cool. "We've known Tony for longer than you have. DiNozzo doesn't outwardly show that he's angry…"

"Or depressed for that much. You sort of have to squeeze it out of Tony. That's how he acts, it's like if he pretends its not there, he won't have to face it." Abby added as she pushed some other keys on her keyboard. "It's really annoying especially after tough cases. He's one of those people that stuffs feelings deep inside and hopes that he won't explode from too much." Abby clenched her teeth, feeling protective of Tony. "Just the fault of his fricken father." She rolled her eyes. 

"" McGee's frustrated voice rang from where he was sitting. His fist was clenched and he suddenly seemed very angry.

"What, Timmy?" Abby asked, spinning around in her chair to face him.

"I bugged him all this time, because I thought it would help me but really I was going around all of this backwards. Do you know how ironic that is now?" McGee muttered frustrated about the whole situation. 

"Yea. Imagine. The first time Tony doesn't say anything to us about it or brag it's the time when he should have said something." Ziva answered. 

She shook her head, identical black pigtails banging her head in the same spots, and turned her full attention to the task ahead. Taking a slurp of her Caf-pow! she pulled on her gloves, comforted by the mumbled voices speaking in the background. 

Bopping her head to music only she could hear, she delicately pealed the tissue paper from the small object. 

She snorted in confusion and with a whispered, "What the…? she examined the three inch piece that came wrapped in tissue paper. It was adorable. No other way to say it. A small clay figure, with exaggerated rounded edges, that looked just like a precious moments figurine. Frankly, it was amazing. It was decorated with such details that took amazing skill and patience. From the tiny red, feathered headband to the darker toned moccasins, the figure looked just like a tiny Indian. 

Her whisper sent everyone looking her way. She held the tiny piece in her hand to show them. 

"What is that?" Ziva asked, cocking her head to the side as she stared at the piece in confusion. She shifted her gaze to Gibbs to staring at the tiny thing. 

"It's an Indian. About three inches or so, to be exact." He answered. Using a glove, as to not contaminate it, he handled the figure. Probably used for toys.

"Decoration?" McGee asked quietly, slipping his own glove on and holding the Indian.

Honestly, the little statue didn't look very suspicious or anything that they normally dealt with. It looked like it was something that would be on a knick-knack table for a garage sale.

"Probably. But why is an Indian so important?" Ziva asked.

"I don't know." Abby looked more closely. "I got another question. Why is it holding a miniature key?" 

McGee looked closely at the figure noticing, that the little figure had something stuck to it, wrapped around the key. 

"Hey guys, there's another note stuck to it." He pulled it off slowly, careful not o cause drastic changes to the figurine.

"_One little, two little three little Indians_

_Four little, five little, six little Indians,_

_seven little, eight little, __**nine**__ little Indians."_

McGee read the note quickly, never stopping to let the others see or hear the full poem. His eyes growing wide with recognition. Everything just clicked. 

McGee put the figure on the table and leapt to the computer and began typing. 

"It's amazing. It just works now," he said continuing. "I mean think about it," the others watched McGee's frantic typing and excited face. 

"McGee would you care to tell us about what you're saying?" Gibbs asked. 

"Yes. McGee, because not all of us are as skilled in this part of the English literature as you are," Ziva added, baffled with McGee's oddly excited behavior.

He looked at them with disbelief and sighed heavily, pressing one final button and gesturing up to the plasma. "And you're telling me that nobody is connecting dots."

Abby stared at the screen, her face screwed up in concentration. What did a note about two little children killing one another have to do with a little Indian. 

She grabbed the note. "It would help if we saw it." She grabbed it, smiling slightly. "I can't believe that I didn't think of it. I mean come on." She laughed. " The stanza from a poem and this little cutie." She held up her hand that had the little figurine. "See and that's why we keep you around!"

Nobody answered. Ziva looked perplexed and Gibbs' face was impassive but his eyes were glinting with hidden laughter as the note passed onto them and he read it quickly. 

"Come on. I mean have you ever heard of—"

"_And Then There were None_ by Agatha Christie. That's the movie version, personally my favorite version, "Ten Little Indians" the poem, or it was originally called "Ten Little Injuns". Tony cut in. He was leaning against the door with his hands in his pockets. "I think this creep has a serious infatuation with _The Ten Little Indians_."

"How long have you been standing there?" Gibbs asked not turning around. Tony smiled softly and sat down.

"Long enough. I just needed to cool down. "

"When did you get so good at classic English literature?"

Tony smirked. "Probie that's one class at Ohio State that you can't skip." 

"I still don't understand. What is the Ten Little Indians?" Ziva asked. 

"Well Ziva, it's a classic fictional book by Agatha Christie in the late….

"McGee, I think she wants to know the plot not when it was copyrighted." Tony said rolling his eyes. "It's about ten people that are invited to spend some time on a deserted island. Little do they know is that all of them are going to be killed. Each one moves into the rooms and finds a disturbing little poem about the Indians dying."

"Did you get one? You'd think that if the guy were that obsessed with the book that he'd want to send you one too," Abby said.

"He did. I received the note day earlier than the first murder. I personally thought that the maker was a senile man and maybe the messenger was too but well that was my opinion."

"Do you still have it?" Gibbs asked. 

He inhaled through his teeth and made an apologetic face. "Not now. It's with the other evidence in Baltimore. That's coming soon, it's being delivered by FedEx Express. It should be here…" he checked his cell phone. "In about a half an hour."

"Can you please tell me the rest of the story?" Ziva added annoyed that they had once again been thrown off topic. "I'll understand this case better if you tell me."

"Sure. Where were we probie?" 

"You were about to tell her about their deaths."

"Oh right. Well the poem on the wall described each one of their deaths. It meant each one of the people on the island. Then throughout the entire book each of the ten characters is killed off by an unseen force almost exactly how the poem described. The police figure out the murders later."

"Where does the little Indian fit in?" Ziva asked.

"On the dining room table, when they all were alive, there were ten little Indians that looked like this but creepier and more evil looking." Abby added holding up the little figure. "After each death, one of them would disappear. That's where the title of the book came from."

As Ziva digested the information, Tony grew quieter. He knew what they were going to ask next. 

"So when are you going to tell us what happened?" Gibbs questioned his sharp blue eyes meeting Tony's green ones. Tony sighed and his eyes grew downcast.

He briefly looked up at the door, calculating the risk of running from the room once again. It was hopeless. Gibbs staked out the corner cabinet and Ziva ferociously sat in front of the doorway, her lab chair in the center of the room. It wouldn't be very proactive to run.

It seemed that he would just have to say it. 

He took a deep breath. 

* * *

Mwahahaha…have to read the next chapter to find it out. Now, I actually have a confession. I have been in such a state of **Re**writer's block because I personally feel like I just ruined this story by adding so many things that I originally did not want in this chapter. Hopefully you guys agree that I have solved that problem with flow and continuity but if I haven't than whatever. I'm trying and it'll teach me a lesson for messing with things after I have it perfect. So please tell me what you're thinking because I'm honestly very confused about where I'm going now. Ugh…

Luvs, Ari

PS- On the brighter side, I Can't Be Perfect, has a new chapter!! So go read and review! Haha, even if you just want to inform me about who knows what, leave me a note! I love to know what people think. 


	6. The Raw Deal

**Losing innocence…**

I really wanted to post this earlier, but my writing time doesn't coordinate with my massive hours of study for my hilariously hard test on Early Middle East history…but I did get a 93 so I'm overjoyed. Once again, I'm sorry to leave you hanging like that with a cliffy and I'd love to thank each and every reviewer/reader/enjoyer who have skimmed this story.

Enjoy Chapter 6!!

* * *

"So when are you going to tell us what happened?" Gibbs questioned his sharp blue eyes meeting Tony's green ones. Tony sighed and his eyes grew downcast.

He briefly looked up at the door, calculating the risk of running from the room once again. It was hopeless. Gibbs staked out the corner cabinet and Ziva ferociously sat in front of the doorway, her lab chair in the center of the room. It wouldn't be very proactive to run.

It seemed that he would just have to say it.

He took a deep breath.

* * *

**Chapter 6- The Raw Deal**

"Honestly, I would rather not. It's not exactly one of Baltimore PD's brightest moments." McGee sat down next to one of the computers. Abby sat in her chair next to the computer that was running through print matches. Ziva relaxed enough to take a stand against the table…easy access to pounce in case he lost his nerve.

Gibbs, funnily enough, seemed to trust him the least. He stood still in the center of the room, his eyes dissecting his every movement."

"I guess I should just get this over with." He paused as if he was gearing himself up to say something very important. "I think we put the wrong man in jail. The entire investigation we had nothing. All the evidence led to a dead end, until the last case." He walked away and peered outside.

"The last case was a 17 year old girl by the name of Emma Logan. She was at her cousin's wedding. She had left to go to take a walk near the pond. She…disappeared, for a couple of hours and she reappeared a few feet from the pond, dead. My supervisor gave me the case, and I started looking through her case. Her tox screen showed that her blood stream showed slight traces of GHB and rohypnol, or date rape drugs. Her autopsy also showed that she was raped before she died and she had ligature marks from a thick rope. She had a single gunshot wound to the chest but before she died she was stabbed just like this girl was. There were no defense wounds so she obviously didn't fight back."

"Do you think she knew him?" Tony shrugged.

He bitterly answered. "We never checked. We didn't even know this was the same killer because they were such irrelevant details about the body that the killer kept in play. The day after we found her body I was delivered a note. It had the same little Indian and said _Dear Detective DiNozzo_. Each time the letter came we knew it was him. His signature was the little Indian."

He held the little Indian up and stared at it closely. The figure could be cute if you didn't count the soulless, uncaring eyes that seemed to follow wherever they were.

Shuddering slightly, he turned back to the group that was watching him with wide eyes and cautious glances. There was an understanding among them that something horrible was going to happen during their 'story time'.

"We combed through the evidence we gathered from her case and found almost nothing. No blood no hair but we did find a print."

"But that's good! That means that you got the guy," Abby smiled for a moment then frowned realizing that Tony looked even worse. "I'm guessing it wasn't good."

"Right. We ran the print through AFIS and found a hit. It was Marcus Alferi. We picked up the guy and roughed him up. Brought him into interrogation and prodded the snot out of him."

"Sounds exciting but I can just feel a catch coming," McGee said with a grimace.

"Those instincts of yours are improving, McGee." He said with only a hint of sarcasm. "He had told us an alibi but had no solid prove of that happening."

"What do you mean?"

"Video? Or eyewitness statements?"

"Both." Tony scoffed and looked disgusted. "Seven other girls had already been killed over two months by the same killer and Baltimore wanted answers. We used not having a rock solid alibi as a scapegoat. We blamed all of the murders on him." He took a deep breath, he could almost hear the man screaming his innocence through the one-way glass again. "To be honest now I don't know how we put him away. We barely had enough evidence to search his house nonetheless put him away."

Abby looked appalled. "And the judge who evaluated him never questioned…"

Tony snickered bitterly. "Nope. His four virgin teenage daughters based his final decision."

"That's terrible." McGee said.

"Yeah, but that's the problem with the judicial system of today. He forgot about the eight that had to lose their lives."

"What happened then?" Ziva asked. She had stayed pretty quiet throughout his story.

'We threw him in jail and we moved on. I left the force a couple of months later, I couldn't take the uneasiness, and now it started again." Tony stopped and thought for a second. "You know, come to think of it why did he wait almost exactly seven years to come back and haunt me?"

"He wanted to catch you off guard?" McGee guessed.

"Or maybe just to get you to wear off those guilty feelings enough to cause a surge when you find another body" Ziva muttered.

Tony looked at her confused, before excepting her English as it was, assuming she meant something along the lines of _holding onto his guilt_.

"Maybe. They're all possibilities." Tony said slumping against the wall. Another painfully awkward silence fell as they waited for someone to say something to kill off the uneasy disappointment they all felt.

It seemed that the computer running AFIS had the idea to stop the silence. It beeped as the program recognized and had a positive match for the fingerprint.

Abby jumped out of the chair and pumped her fist. "I found a match and it's not to your guy Marco." It was a shame to see Abby almost dancing in pride when Tony knew that soon he'd have to tell them bad news.

"José Vega. Convicted felon but jailed for only petty crimes. His rap sheet isn't very long. Drug possession, breaking and entering and assault and battery charges. He had bail every time but his sister Elena couldn't meet it." McGee said. He squinted his eyes trying to see how so many young children could fall victim to a man that looked like he belonged on the Cop 'Wanted' shows.

The Colombian man before them was ugly and had to be at least forty. His brown eyes were hidden behind thick and bushy eyebrows as was his small mouth hidden by an equally bushy moustache. The top part of his chest that they showed was broad and muscular, perfect for sitting on top of someone and forcing them to perform sexual favors.

"Well then, let's go find José and bring him in." Gibbs said, turning to walk out the door. "What's his address?"

"Maywood Avenue." McGee, Ziva and Gibbs stopped short and turned around. Tony's doubtful voice filled the space between the two men.

"Don't waste your time. It's not worth spending hours looking for him when you won't."

"Why?" Ziva asked cringing.

Instead of Tony answering it was Abby. "Maywood Avenue is a cemetery. He died in a jail riot almost five years ago."

Tony stood up and catching sight of the man, wrinkled his nose. "If you try to question his sister she'll probably beat the crap out of you." He pointed to the picture of the man. "She's built just like him and probably just as hairy."

"You questioned this man?" Gibbs asked returning to his former position.

"Man? No. Sister? I tried and nearly got my head chopped off. She gets easily offended when people accuse her brother of crimes. She seems to think that he's a sweet little boy scout despite witness and victim statement's of his crimes. She's a chain smoker and maybe a druggie" He winced putting a hand to his chest imagining the smoke in his lungs from just breathing near her.

"She's in complete denial?" Ziva asked. "Could be motive?"

"For what? Questioning her brother about a murder. I doubt that's enough to commit murder."

"I thought you knew better Anthony. Being an NCIS agent and a former homicide detective you should know that not everyone has a perfectly logical reason for murder," Ducky's lilting voice carried across room as he entered the lab. He set down a small bag and a covered dish on Abby's table. "I have some new objects of interest for you" Abby nodded, biting on the straw of a Caf-Pow Gibbs had brought down before.

"Yea Duck. I suppose you're right." Tony sighed.

"What are you doing here, Duck?" Gibbs asked. Ducky turned to the man and gestured the group to follow him into the elevator and to the morgue.

"I have the results of my autopsy, Jethro." He said. They entered into the empty morgue and went straight to the table where the eighteen year old lay open on the long silver autopsy table.

Tony tried not to stare. It was difficult anyway. The poor girl's heart was laid on a tray only two feet from him polluting up the air around him and making it difficult to breathe. Maybe it was from fear, maybe from just guilt.

He closed his eyes and involuntarily took a step back to contain his nausea. He couldn't watch Ducky talk and gesture about the body during the autopsy. He could almost see the first body on Doc Bailey's autopsy.

The tiny body lying so still on the table that was just so long compared to her body. Her beautiful rich, auburn hair spread across the table, the—He shook his head to clear the memories from his mind. He couldn't torture himself with the images when in less than a minutes he would learn all about another victim.

Ducky walked a bit farther and picked up a file. He flipped a page. "True cause of death was in fact blood loss. The major factor being a bullet wound to the right lung and a stab wound to the abdomen right below her stomach. The bullet's path was in fact what I first believed. The trajectory of the bullet was close to 160 degrees. It went in slightly left of the sternum and missed several ribs, nicking her diaphragm and eventually passing through her lung and on its way out breaking her sixth rib."

"What about DNA? Any defensive wounds?" McGee asked. Ducky shook his head and wiped his glasses free of grime and smudges.

"None. She had a few broken nails but with closer inspection they were bit off. She was a nail biter, destroying any possible catch of evidence. I did find a few abrasions and scratches. I did find a couple of suspicious tears." He pulled the light closer to her upper right arm. All four other people followed his spot of light. Four half moon nail impressions spread out as a hand would to grab someone were located in her skin near her shoulder. " He flipped a second page and looked up to the crowd hanging onto his every word. "I took a sample of her blood and it's being sent to the lab as we speak."

"Duck," Tony breathed deeply. "Was their any signs of sexual assault?"

Ducky didn't even flinch. "Yes. I found severe vaginal tearing. Regretfully, I'll admit, Ms. Little was most likely a virgin."

"Rape?" McGee hissed the word quickly and glanced warily at Gibbs.

Ducky nodded gravely. "I pray that the man who did this to her gets punished severely. He deserves it."

"Sadist, just another adjective to add to the list." Tony whispered.

"Rape. We'll let Abby check the dress for semen maybe she can get the DNA from the killer." Gibbs muttered.

A soft swear word burst from Tony and he spun around and slammed his fist into the wall of the morgue.

"What in the world…?" Ducky questioned chancing a glance at Ziva. She shrugged. Tony leaned his head against the wall, shaking his head.

"This makes it final," he muttered sadly. "I keep thinking that maybe its just a copycat. Or maybe just an old arrestee of mine that just playing with my mind but it not."

"How do you know for sure? It could still be. Who knows maybe someone heard about it from their girlfriend's friend. Maybe they watch the news."

"Always the optimist, McGee. But the exact details of the murders were never broadcasted on live television. The press secretary for the Precinct only brushed on the murders. She just said that we were investigating them." Tony said cradling his now aching hand. "And if they worked for the crime lab how did they get every detail so perfect? These murders were the same down to the placement of the knife and the other things it's just too close to be an impersonator. He's definitely back."

"You know, I think I'm gonna go check whether the boxes came yet. Catch you guys upstairs," Ziva scouted down the chair she had sat at and walked hurriedly toward the door.

"Uh, I think I'll go help. Such a small person can't handle that many boxes. Even if she is Ziva." McGee hurried said, nearly running after Ziva. Neither wanted to be around when Tony finally cracked.

Defeated, raw deal that Tony now was a shock. They had never seen Tony anything less than perfect and this was definitely less than perfect. It must have scared them shitless.

* * *

So there it is…the reason. Next up, a quaint chat between Ducky and our favorite agent. Okay so this definitely wasn't the most exciting chapter, but very informational. I'm a little shocked that this doesn't have a shocking ending or pivotal point but blame it on little sleep.

Anyway, I'm doing an oral presentation on _And Then there were None_ so I get to revisit this story and, thanks to Kateri1 for the idea I'm going to try to keep in the idea of the perfect murder.

Thanks for the amazing reviews!

Luvs, Ari


	7. Liar, Liar

Losing Innocence…Tigerlily1221

Once again, thanks to every single person who reads this figment of my imagination! I'm a little concerned with the nosedive of reviews but hopefully its nothing. I also know that this is short, but yet again my teachers don't care about my life and seem to want to insist my life revolves around genetics and the Mongols. I promise I'll post multiple times once I'm safely on vacation for Spring break and I have plenty of time to devote to writing!!

Enjoy this angst filled/ Tony self-pitiful chapter!

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**Chapter 7-Liar, Liar**

The sullen awareness of the murders left no room for comfort. Even after Ziva and McGee left he didn't feel anymore at ease.

Tony, Gibbs and Ducky were alone in the morgue with the small, dead body of Christina Little. Gibbs met glances with Ducky. Ducky always knew what needed to be said. Whether it was just an emotional pick me up or just a new perspective on a case, he always had an ear to listen and an opinion that left you puzzled with a renown sense leave you thinking. He always knew the right thing to say just when they needed, even if it was a tiny bit ominous.

"Now my dear boy, let's take a look at that hand." Ducky pulled Tony away from the wall forcing him onto a stool. Ducky shrugged and jerked his head to the door, ushering Gibbs to leave. Gibbs eyed Ducky cautiously and leaving Tony slumped against the desk looking depressively pensive, Ducky pulled him into the hall.

"Jethro, right now, Anthony needs some encouragement. He can't lose the only ounce of hope he has left in finding this killer." He paused and peered into the glass of the morgue. "Watch out for Mr. Palmer. That boy has the wickedest sense of inappropriate timing." Gibbs snorted but still looked put off. He opened his mouth to object, but closed it quickly realizing that Ducky was probably the best person to talk to Tony.

"I trust that DiNozzo will be back in the bullpen at least by nine?" Gibbs asked inching away from Ducky and toward the elevator. "I have a bad feeling that he'll be keeping us up till tomorrow morning."

"Of course." Came Ducky's reply as he reentered the morgue. Tony was still in the same place.

He moved quietly to the pot he always kept handy and dug into a cabinet searching for some tea and mugs. He would let Tony talk when he was ready.

"I can't believe he's back. I just…I just," he gave up trying to explain his thoughts. "I guess I always knew that we had the wrong man. It was just a gut feeling. My mind was twisted with guilt for almost a month after but it was pushed back when a cop's daughter was killed. It kept getting pushed back, further and further."

Tony brushed his hair out of his eyes with the opposite hand. He should have known by now that punching walls were never a good thing. It hurt like hell and his perfect mask of calm was no more.

He actually showed a raw personal side.

He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. How had things gotten so bad, so suddenly? Last night he had been so free with no cares except when he had to pick up his dry cleaning.

He continued; he had to get it off his chest. "The funniest part is that it was so important. I put another man in jail for charges my partner and I made up. We just wanted to put the killings behind us." He said. He frowned deeply, dreading what he would have to say. "We thought it was a frame-up and didn't really try to dig deeper into the puzzle."

"But now you are thinking differently?"

"Yeah." Ducky poured the now steaming tea into mugs, while listening carefully to Tony. "I honestly thought that the head of homicide did it, but who wanted to believe a cop who had left two precincts after only two years each occasion?"

Ducky didn't answer Tony's rhetorical question, simply letting Tony vent and get the rest of the guilt off his chest.

"I think that my chief, Lieutenant Sam J. Narteni, really could have but there was barely any evidence to convict him. When I threw out the possibility of him being the murderer I was nearly fired. The department was overly protective of him. I secretly tried to question him, but he went ballistic. He thought that we were accusing him of murder and started screaming."

"It really made me wonder how he got that job as the chief. I mean everyone thought that he was a great man. Maybe he had some anger management problems and relationship issues but when we profiled the supposed killer we should have been able to see that. For awhile, I think we all thought that the first guy we jammed behind bars would be the real killer because the murders stopped." He sighed. "But now it's so clear."

He lifted the mug, drinking the Earl Grey tea slowly, so it didn't burn his throat. "I can't help but feel responsible for my utter stupidity."

Ducky nodded in agreement. "In a lesser mean, no matter how much you'd rather not admit it, your old department is just as responsible as killer. You might not have pulled the trigger but you did let the killer run free." Ducky said wistfully. He pulled at the roll of gauze grabbing Tony's palm to wrap his knuckles now stained with fresh blood.

"Thank you Duck for just highlighting the fact that I made a rookie mistake and let myself get tugged into a cover up scheme." He responded feeling even worse. "I knew I should have went to Abby." He sarcastically rolled his eyes. "It's so stupid."

"No," Ducky answered. "It's not stupid. You simply were caught between a rock and a hard place.

"I can't believe it. I knew it was wrong too but I just couldn't handle it by myself." He shrugged. "It's not like anyone else was offering any support for my gut feeling."

Ducky smiled patiently finishing up his simple wrap and patting Tony's hand. "I know the perfect story." He raised his hand at Tony's subtle roll of his eyes. "And don't you say anything. It'll be a quick one."

"Really? I could have sworn I heard you tell Gibbs, I'd be out by 9."

Ducky raised his eyes. "I once knew a young man like you. He was headstrong and dreadfully stubborn but he knew what was right and wrong. He entered the federal agency because he wanted to put a stop to the horrible occurrences that everyday people, whether innocent or not. This young man was a very talented and instinctive official but reckless."

He smiled and looked thoughtfully into the black reflective glass of the X-ray. "It was several months after he joined that he came across his first great hurdle. He became caught in the web of lies that's the real world and was too obstinate to ask for help." Ducky looked down at Tony. He was taking all the information in stride. "The young man came to me with a "hypothetical" situation, but I told him the same answer that I'm going to tell you."

Ducky smiled gently, standing up and picking up the loose papers and arranging them into a pile on his desk.

"There are two paths to travel, the easy road and the right road. It's your decision to figure out which is which. To do that you'll need to figure out whish is the right road to take."

"But I chose the easy road. How can I change it, if I can't go back?" Tony asked miserably, swirling the crème that was floating at the top of the tea.

"Sometimes Anthony, the path may not be so visible to the naked eye but with help you might just be able to pave the road and come out on the other." Ducky finished the last of his tea and put it in the sink for later washing. "Anthony, you can either let the mistake you made keep burdening you or you can do something about. It might be difficult but with help you can do it." He picked up Tony's cup and grabbed his own, leaving the room for the sinks across the way.

Tony stood up with renewed hope and encouragement. Maybe it wasn't cut straight and clear like Gibbs' advice would have been but it was insightful and deep.

"I will see you tomorrow, Tony. I need to relieve the young woman caring for mother. She was awfully grumpy this morning."

Tony smiled weakly. "Alright, Ducky. Thank you. I'd better go before Gibbs has my head." They shared the mutual unspoken knowledge that right now it would be erroneous of Gibbs to act indifferent. He grabbed his own smaller stack of papers, the phone numbers he needed for contact information in Baltimore, walked quickly to the door. He stopped before the door, even though it slid open with a low hiss.

"Ducky, who was the man you were talking about before?" he asked just steps away from leaving the room.

Ducky turned off the water. "Well Anthony, I would prefer not to tell you. I think that would be going against the young man's privacy." Ducky smiled softly. "I think that you, my boy, already know that answer."

* * *

I hope it's not that…difficult…for you guys to figure out. Maybe because I can read my own thoughts it seems so obvious. If you can't don't feel bad….lol

Anyway, I swear that I tried so hard not to make the paragraphs fifty lines long because I know, that I can't thoroughly read through a story without needing to skim and I love to read anything I can. I hope you take my efforts in stride…so without further ado, I'll leave y'll to review (wink wink) and whatever else you'd enjoy doing with this story! I hope you guys will appreciate my effort to update quickly.

Luvs, Ari


	8. Just a Snapshot

Title: Losing Innocence

Disclaimer: Never, ever, ever say never. It could come true, I'll use all of my birthday and eyelash wishes on NCIS…this take a while.

I had a sudden burst of inspiration, so if this seems more alive than the others leave it to that. I haven't been feeling so creative because I wanted to get the chapters out to you in time, cutting down my inspiration.

I think this one should be a little more interesting, I'm trying it in the mind of the killer, so if it doesn't work out evenly, be glad. It proves I'm not a serial killer. Lol

Enjoy!

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**Chapter 8- Just a Snapshot**

_Well, John it seems like the Baltimore serial killer from 2000, might be back in our midst._

The overly perky voice seemed out of place saying those words. Her blonde hair rested across her overwhelming large chest. She looked like an advocate for plastic surgery.

_Haha. Unfortunately you seem to be right, Taylor. After a shocking crime scene found by young Lillian Barns, a relative of the victim, special agents from the agency NCIS' feel that it might be the work of an experienced murderer. _

He had never felt this happy before. Sure, killing his other victims had its perks but this thrill was inexorable. This girl. This delicately beautiful girl had peaked the attention of media. He knew that it must be killing the Detective.

More than anything, he wanted to go after Tony. He wanted Anthony to feel alienated and untouchable. He found it immensely satisfying to watch the detective slowly seep into a shell of protectiveness developed just so he could shield his fragile state of mind.

He pressed the large red button on his TV, muting the sound, sinking into the overstuffed cushion.

He tapped his hand against his thigh. He smiled ruefully, reminiscing on the past girls he had coerced into telling him their secrets. The poor souls he had comforted when they explained how hurt they were with their friend's lack of understanding or brother's stupidity with her feelings.

He played with their heads making them believe that just maybe they had found someone who really did care. Maybe that he was person that every girl dreamed of.

He pictured the first girl in his mind. Her shocked wide eyes. Dana, that was her name. She was pretty and smart. She had been on her way to Georgetown with free ride.

She had been really shocked that he was not the sensitive guy he had projected. She hadn't been for long. He had slashed her throat and shot her in the chest before he could force himself not to.

He shuddered a little. He had almost not killed her. He had nearly vomited as he cleaned his prints and small blood pool from the white porcelain tiles near the pool.

For a fraction of the time, when she pled for him not to do it, he almost let her go. He couldn't do it. Even though Dibozo was such an asshole toward him, he couldn't do it.

It took much of his mental will power to finally kill her. He realized that he could do it. He had to; it was so worth it. If it meant messing up Anthony Dibozo's perfectly scripted mind than it was worth it.

Grinning broadly, he left the small den to his makeshift darkroom, grabbing his camera on the way along with a small brown box.

He loved developing film. Photography had actually been his choice profession before his father had forced him into police work.

The film had been drying for over two hours, it should be fine by now. It was exactly on the time frame he wanted.

He could send the pictures to Dibozo, and scare him. He grinned. He had an even better idea. Maybe he should send it to the boss.

He debated it. That would be even better. He would enjoy freaking out the old man.

He had been watching the NCIS team for too long to only mess with DiNozzo and not the rest of the loving family.

Watching that bunch was like watching his favorite TV show. They were so much fun to observe, admittedly the girls were enjoyable too. Of course, DiNozzo was always fun to watch and it was an old habit of his to watch him, so that was old news. But the newer people were thrilling.

He had snapped pictures of each person on the team. He took pictures and followed them everywhere. By the end of the second week he could pinpoint where they would go each week.

He was lucky though. They hadn't noticed the flash of light and clack of the shutter that came with each picture. He was very lucky they hadn't, or he would never have the time to pick his victim in between trailing them and his job.

He picked up the last developed picture. Raising up to the better light as he walked back into the main room.

The last girl, Megan Elings was one of the prettier ones. She was the last one before the real fun. Although her characteristic reddish blonde hair was gorgeous, her eyes were easily her best feature. They were bright sea blue, and were big and round. She was a smart girl and very athletic. Just watching her move nearly made him drool.

If Detective DiNozzo couldn't figure out who he was by the time the pictures were safely in the hands of the boss, then he was a very stupid man. He would laugh loudly at the Detective's stupidity and maybe punish him.

He licked the envelope slapping the envelope carefully and strutted to the mailbox, feeling satisfied. He smiled at the older women who lived in the apartment above his.

She made no response toward him, no smile or wave. She was one of the only women who ever thought of him as _odd_.

He returned to his apartment, slamming the door with his foot, humming a song he didn't even know the words to.

He took a drag of the small pipe he had filled and then lifted to his lips. He returned to the couch and the muted TV. Flicking the The heaviness of the taste and smell enveloped his senses, dragging him into a drug induced stupor.

Even as he settled into his chair for the largest portion of the drug use, he had a single thought on his mind.

He couldn't wait for that part.

* * *

AHHHH. My hands are overworked and blistering from spending my entire drive to Connecticut writing this chapter. And I still have to transfer it to the computer.

Please drop a note/comment/review. My hands and I will appreciate it. Chapter 9 should appear soon. I promise, like with a virtual pinky promise or spit in your hand and slap hands kind of promise.

Seriously.

Luvs, Ari


	9. A Little Bit Longer

**Losing Innocence**

Disclaimer: I've been in denial for the past days that maybe my mom got it for my birthday (whoohoo, I'm seventeen!) and just wouldn't give it to me but no.

I had fun writing McGee's point of view but a lot of difficulty with writing Gibbs. Enjoy this chapter. More or less this is the end of 'Part 1'.

Enjoy and don't forget to review!!

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**Chapter 9-A Little Bit Longer**

It took almost two days to sort through the mess of evidence in the boxes delivered soon after Ziva and McGee left the morgue. Despite the boxes being so carefully arranged, it was a boring way to investigate.

One half was the real evidence in clear bags closed at the top with yellow tape, carefully signed in the corner with Tony's initials. The other half was filled with the reports, findings and pictures. The files were everywhere. Regular sized manila folders were stuffed to the top with unimaginable amounts of…crap.

It was frightening really. The amount of stuff that accumulated from eight murders was disgusting. Each girl had at least two boxes to herself and about a dozen folders worth of pictures and reports.

Each case had almost the identical findings of the other. A knife, napkin, empty medicine bottle that used to be filled with anti-depressants, one lucky guess at whose they thought it belonged to, and many other arbitrary objects found by each body.

Some of the objects found at the scene had no point in being outside. They were the weirdest possible objects that a normal person would bring outside. A well, worn stuffed animal was next to each girl, a bright pink bath sponge, and a scrap piece from a journal. It made no sense to any of the team.

Abby was going over each piece one by one. There were so many of each that even for her that even the forensics was getting to be a tedious task. She could never hate it but the similar processes to find only smudges was getting awfully irritating. Half of the things that she was processing were the same making it feel like a triple case of déjà vu.

McGee was working on the cell phone found at the last scene hoping that it was the killer's. Even if it was the victim's maybe there would be a phone number or name to go on. It was the only object that wasn't at every scene.

Gibbs' team was using a conference room to analyze the evidence that Abby had already tested and congregate in one area. The bullpen where their desks were was too small and not nearly secretive enough for the case.

"I swear DiNozzo, your handwriting is worse on this page than it is now," Gibbs exclaimed his head bent over the thick open folder. His nose was nearly touching the paper as he tried to read the scrawled messy print. "How did the attorney read your writing?"

Tony stopped reading but didn't look up. "Honestly I have no idea. It's my writing and I can barely read it." He picked up a pen resting beside the files and made a small note in the margins of a spare sheet of clean loose leaf. "I don't think I've ever noticed how much evidence I collected from one murder." He cocked his head to the side to see if the picture made more sense from another perspective. He flipped the picture over too. Realizing what he was doing, he shook his head putting it down. "This is crazy, we have over five boxes of basically the same pictures and files.

The three quieted again, each absorbed in the files they were reading and rereading for errors or inconsistencies. It was such repetitive information and after a moment of reading the information seemed to fuzz. It was putting their already overworked minds to sleep.

"You know what this isn't working." Ziva said, throwing the papers down onto the desk. She stood up from her chair and stretched. "We need to do something productive or we're going to crash before dawn."

Gibbs and Tony nodded in agreement. Tony put down his file and with a lingering almost disgusted look at it he stood up and went to the door. "I'm going to take a walk. I need to clear my head." Gibbs nodded and turned to Ziva as Tony left the room.

"Tony!" Ziva shook her head. "Why don't you just go home for the night? Its almost one. You've had what? Almost thirty-two hours of no sleep" Tony opened his mouth to respond something that implied sex but Ziva continued. "And no, I won't 'Tuck you in'."

He frowned, jutting his lip out to complete his puppy-dog face.

"You're dead on your feet. I don't think much will happen in the 3 hours you'll sleep. If you sleep that much anyway." She smiled sadly. "They're not going anywhere and you are not helping by sleeping here instead of at your apartment. Save the snoring for your pillow," her statement was so exact, even Gibbs had to agree.

"We've all had more sleep than you. DiNozzo, you've worked harder than most of us and honestly I think that I'm going to send everyone home unless we get a lead."

Tony nodded and shrugged on his coat over his tense muscles. He picked up his bag and slipped out of the door to the elevator.

"That was too easy. He must be very exhausted." Ziva said.

"When you know DiNozzo, it's easy to tell when he's worked up. He must be really guilty. I don't know how far he'll go to save the next young woman." Gibbs shook his head. "If he doesn't get a hold of himself I'm going to have to throw him off the case. " Gibbs said. He peered out of the door and spotted his exhausted second in command clenching and unclenching his fist as he waited for the elevator.

At a first glance, Tony didn't even look tired. His head was still held high and smiled that thousand watt smile to another field agent who was catching up on paperwork.

A closer inspection, and that was only if he would let you come that closely, you could see the darker bags of skin under his eyes. His eyes were bloodshot and his entire body was like a dying flower. Wilted, droopy and exhausted all over.

"Seeing him like this almost makes me wish that I could just grab this bastard and throttle him." Ziva exclaimed, holding the paper she had looked at before and showing Gibbs, through example, what she would do.

Gibbs gently pried her fingers opened and smoothed the report sheet "You and me both." He snatched a quick glance out the door again this time seeing an angry DiNozzo slam a fist against the closed door. With one last futile punch at the steel box he stalked away from the elevator to the stairs.

It was a shame only seconds after he left the somewhat dented elevator door opened.

"David, take him home. I'm in no mood to go to the hospital because Tony had unresolved anger issues about this bastard." If Ziva was surprised at the command she didn't show it. Gibbs sighed, rubbing his face. "He just started walking down the stairs, take the elevator and you should be able to meet him." She nodded tiredly and picked up her own NCIS jacket that was on the floor near her chair. "After you drop him off, go home yourself, David. We'll start off fresh tomorrow."

If Ziva was shocked she didn't let it show, instead she left the room and made her way toward the elevator. She was preoccupied with her own astonishment for caring about Tony that she didn't even notice the rather muscular Latino janitor that was creeping around the side of one of the cubicles with a walkie-talkie in one hand and a hand gripped suspiciously around an object in his pocket.

* * *

Scientific studies show that at times of boredom our minds try to put us to sleep. The mind grows sluggish and the body seems to wilt from the utter exhaustion that seems to suddenly unfold upon us.

The only way to pull McGee out of his boredom induced daze was a freezing bucket of water over his head or the more plausible incident of bleeping results.

He had never thought that computers were boring until this point. Computers were so intricate, so explorative. He could spend hours just admiring a hard drive or the wiring of the computer. The internal structure could be so different or so similar depending on the make.

But now, if he had to answer one more _are you sure you don't want to change this feature?_ pop-up he was sure that he would scream and maybe even throw the LCD computer screen out of the window. Oh, that sounded nice.

He shook hi head shocked by the thought. Computers were his babies. He picked up the cell phone found at the scene, confirmed that it belonged to Christina Little.

It seemed that eighteen year old Christina Little was just an ordinary teenager. She spent hours on the phone talking to her best girl friends. There were three unknown numbers. Two were later found out to be a cousin answering her party invitation and a mistaken number. The third was the suspicious caller they were hoping for.

The calls lasted less than twenty minutes but there were many text messages to accompany the short conversations.

"Okay there are seven text messages from the unknown." McGee was thinking out loud. "Hey Abs, if you were a serial killer what would be the easiest way to gain trust?" she didn't answer. He rolled his eyes. He clicked a button and another screen popped up with tiny writing inside. "Hypothetically of course," She still didn't answer. "At least look at the recent texts." He gestured to the screen and turned around.

Unbeknownst to him, Abby had turned off her music and snuggled onto the chair with Bert while she waited for various machines to finish. The Mass Spec was still running a substance found on one the girl's purse. Another computer ran blood drops that were far away from the body through CODIS.

McGee sighed, it seemed that he was the only one left awake. He leaned down, sneaking a hand to grab Abby's caf-pow. He was in for a long night and didn't even have a friend. He needed the sweet caffeinated drink.

He bit on the straw. He was being selfish. He just wanted someone to stay awake with. Abby needed the sleep. She had worked hard the past days going through the evidence and running tests on them. She, more than anyone, deserved the sleep.

He typed another few commands on the keyboard and a buzzing sound echoed through the lab as the computer hacked and secretly scrolled through the files at Motorola and T-Mobile.

The unknown owner could just be a cousin, for all he knew. It didn't have to be anyone that was a suspicious person. There were many possibilities.

Even if it was the actual killer than he would be smart enough to use an alias or go as far as identity theft to hide. He groaned, just thinking of the workload he was in for if he didn't find something fast. It was almost a lost cause to try to find him.

He couldn't admit defeat to Gibbs, so McGee pushed himself farther. If the killer used an alias it could be a number of things. It could be a favorite movie star, an old dead person they once knew. Anyone!

But then he could have made it into an anagram, like McGee's pen name. He grinned but then swiftly moaned once again. He needed a name.

He nearly dropped the drink when he remembered the text message he had up only moments before. He hadn't thought about it at the time but while questioning her friends and siblings none of them had insisted that she had a boyfriend.

He pulled up the text, excited that he might have a clue.

_Chrissy, meet you by the port?_

There was no name but, as McGee happily admitted, there was a number. He went off the Motorola site and opened a different link.

He plugged in the number and leaned back as the numbers began speedily searching through miles of data for a coinciding number.

If the computer would hurry up and look through the files fast enough he could start putting in the different letters and numbers.

He had wasn't an impatient man but the wait was ridiculous. It took what?? Almost 4:25 minutes to run through 9,000 numbers. It made him want to scream.

He jumped off his chair and began to pace, racing around the perimeter of the room as if he was sprinting. The combination of little to no sleep in the last three days was taking it's toll. If he didn't move he would fall asleep. The neon green light from the clock mocked him.

_2:43...2:44..._

Bert farted and McGee muffled a chuckle. Abby had turned on her other side, poor Bert getting caught in the middle and cheerfully voicing his distaste.

He smiled, the small noise had boosted his mood a little, giving him strength to not fall asleep while the beeping continued. He would do anything to keep from falling asleep. If he fell asleep than that would be a demerit on his part, he wasn't supposed to fall asleep on the job.

As if on cue the computer chimed instantly. It bleeped and buzzed as it found the match name to the number surprisingly quickly for the old files that he could hack through.

His face fell and he moaned banging his head against the metal tables.

It was a disposable phone. They had nothing. It was a dead end.

McGee pressed a button to stop the beeping casting a disbelieved look at Abby's still form, her eyes moving rapidly under her lids. She was out cold.

He grabbed two blankets from the bottom of the desk and placed one on Abby's lap, tucking it around her and another he wrapped around himself. He curled into the chair, not giving a damn whether Gibbs found him or not.

* * *

So there's that… I hoped you enjoyed it. I want to thank everyone that reviewed. I feel really good knowing that I'm so close to having 100 reviews!! It's a really big landmark in my mind because I never let people read my story and knowing you guys like it is amazing!! Even if you haven't reviewed but you have this marked for alerts or you're just enjoying the ride, I hope I am keeping you entertained.

Luvs, Ari

P.S- Anyone see the new NCIS? I thought it was really nicely written and I was confused with the ending! But gosh, Tony showing emotion made me nearly choke on my pizza slice. LOL. But seriously, all of you in other countries, be ready.


	10. A Hard Day

**Title: Losing Innocence**

Disclaimer: If this was mine would I be writing on fanfiction? Yeah, I didn't think so…

Author's Note: Whoohoo, I hit 100! It's been a pretty big goal of mine to reach 100 on one of the stories…and I have accomplished it. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, you have no idea unbelievably over the moon I am…moo

**Very sorry about the sentence cut offs, turns out I missed a full paragraph, I double checked once uploaded and they're fixed. **

* * *

**Chapter 7- Hard Day's Night**

Tony was going to explode. Pounding down the stairs was the most he could do to stop himself from exploding right in the middle of NCIS. If he didn't hit, punch, stab something he was going to take his anger out on a person, something he never wanted to do after witnessing some of his father's explosions.

He pounded down the stairs eagerly, barely waiting to reach his car and speed home where he could flop out on the couch and nap for twenty minutes before the nightmares began again.

As he rushed down the stairs, his energy seemed boundless. He couldn't honestly stop to wait for the elevator nor did he have enough patience.

They were always the same, at least five ghosts of the dead girls would haunt and force him down a dark unsuspecting alley than the killer, always masked would show up and kill him by a small bullet to the head.

He would wake up with a start, his bed drenched in sweat, his covers strewn all over his bedroom. The relentless dreams would never end after five causing him to spend the rest of the night taking long heart pounding run through the park. He gained a lot of muscle in the two months that the girls were killed.

It was a terrible thing to reenact every night for almost six weeks straight. It led him to spend unnatural hours in the precinct reviewing old cold cases and reports just so he wouldn't have to sleep. Finally, his partner, James, caught onto his insomnia and threatened to physically carry him to the psychologist if he didn't go himself.

Tony stopped stomping down the stairs long enough to let a strong pulsating migraine ease. He leaned against the wall breathing hard, one hand was gently massaging his throbbing right temple and the other gripping onto the railing for life.

He really should have gone home earlier, he was so overtired. It seemed that now, after his high, he had slowed down enough to allow himself to feel the tiredness. He would barely be able to shower before he crashed.

The migraine pain and faint nausea passed and Tony trekked down the stairs at a slightly slower pace. He pushed open the door to the NCIS car garage and sighed. Ziva and Gibbs were right, he needed to go home. He wouldn't have lasted another twenty minutes in the room without falling asleep or getting sick.

He rummaged through his pockets with a yawn. The fresh adrenaline was dwindling and hours of overwork were crashing overhead.

He stopped short, twenty feet from his car, cursing out loud. He had left his keys in his top drawer. He tightened his fist, restraining himself from kicking something.

"Looking for these?" He nearly jumped out of his skin. He was so unprepared for Ziva to come out of nowhere.

He rolled his eyes, gesturing for Ziva to hand over the keys. He walked toward her and she slipped back a few paces.

"I do not believe so. I am driving." She said, her accent thicker than usual. She smiled sneakily and walked toward the driver's side, pushing passed Tony.

"How about no?" Tony answered. He leaned over her, trying to tug the keys out of her hand. She pulled her hand further away. Sticking the keys in the door, twisting it open and sitting down, before Tony could even move an inch. He groaned. "My baby…" He brushed the polished metal, glaring at the closed door as Ziva barked impatiently to move to the other side.

"You're going to kill me." he muttered, stepping around the mustang to the passenger side. "My poor car. I hope you have a good tow company."

"I'm going to take that as a compliment," she smiled tightly. She sat in the seat and waited until he had gotten into the car before accelerating the car to a crazy level.

They traveled along at the same speed for awhile in complete silence. It didn't bother Tony much; he didn't want to explain everything that happened and be condemned like Ducky had done to him. Ziva was a different story. She was itching to ask specific questions and if she had to interrogate Tony into telling her she would.

"Tony can you please tell me what happened?" She said tapping her fingers impatiently and spitting out a funky Arabian curse word when the stoplight turned green and the sole car in front of them didn't move.

Tony groaned silently banging his head against the glass plate. He knew that she would do this. The second that he didn't have any way of escaping she was going to target him. He had thought that maybe it would have been a little later but Ziva was like a frickin attack ninja. She couldn't possibly wait.

He banged his head again as she sat silently watching him like a paranoid hawk. It was undeniable. This was going to be a completely unpleasant ride.

* * *

McGee almost fell out of his chair. He had been hit with brilliance. The sudden dwelling of information snapped at him like a rubber band.

He knew what he could do. It was so easy. He really should have noticed it but he didn't. It had been so damn obvious.

He scrambled to the metal table where the evidence was lined up in perfect parallel lines, courtesy of Abby while she still was awake. With wide, suddenly awake eyes, he passed through the neatly stacked plastic baggies with Abby's initials clearly printed on the neon labeling.

He found the baggies, almost leaping with glee. If he was right, they might just have cleared a major part of the roadblock.

He spread them across the table, piling the other evidence bags on the end so he could have a large area to work with.

He pulled one of the handkerchiefs out of the baggy, delicately moving the others into a clearing viewing area. They were all monogrammed with a nearly transparent, delicate _J. S. _He raced to the computer, viewing the same text he had read aloud once again. The small was signed Jake.

He had a start. It wasn't much but the similarity had hit him like a ton of bricks. They might have something. Despite the little chance, of it meaning something, McGee couldn't help but feel the teensy little bit of hope returning.

He tapped the keyboard anxiously quickly filling in the information before he could lose his train of thought. Even though, the importance of the insignificant detail loomed overhead, he couldn't help but feel scatter brained. McGee knew the rippling effect a clue would give.

"Whatcha got McGee?" Gibbs' booming voice sent McGee reeling out of his skin.

"Abby was right. You're magic." McGee muttered. Gibbs's cleared his throat. "Sorry boss," he answered quickly. " I might have found something. It's not much, but, just look at this."

He pushed the handkerchief into Gibbs' chest, while bringing up the old text. "J.S."

He was puzzled, and for a moment Gibbs' was lost in thought.

"Jake Sera."

McGee grinned. "J. S."

Gibbs nodded. "Tony and Mr. Sera got into a brawl after one of the first. Ziva did some extra digging and Mr. Sera left his positions as a forensic artist shortly after Tony left Baltimore."

"okay, so half-motive." McGee said sounding more confused as he continued speaking. "He despises Tony so much that he goes after women in a serial killer fashion?" He shrugged. "I think that's a bit unrealistic. Why would he start in the first place?"

"If you didn't interrupt I could tell you." Gibbs said irritated. "He's also the son of Jason Sera Sr. His father was the Chief of Baltimore Precinct 254 Homicide during the same time frame as when Tony was there as a Detective. Tony told Ducky when we got the autopsy report that he had suspicions that the precinct was covering up. He thought that maybe it wasn't as much of a frame up as the precinct thought. He accused him."

"Okay so more motive." McGee murmured.

"Exactly."

"Why did he start originally?" McGee paused. "This is getting so much more complex."

Gibbs continued. "Not yet. We don't know enough." He gestured with his chin to Abby. "Get Abby a caf-pow, she's going to need it. You two have a lot of work to do."

* * *

Like always, the nightmares were brutal. Tony shifted in his sleep. Twisting his body only so much to turn but not to take a roll onto his cream carpet. His breathing hitched, it was horrible like always.

He had fallen on the couch after just barely eating an apple. He had fallen asleep as soon as his head had hit the plush burgundy pillows.

The ghosts were coming after him. He was terribly sorry that he couldn't have gotten to the scene sooner, but that was no reason to chase him down the alley. He ran faster, sprinting down the road so the ghosts wouldn't catch up to him.

He crept into a corner cardboard box that was upright in the corner. Breathing heavily Tony sank deeper into the shadows as the chill of the supernatural creatures approached his hiding spot.

His body shook, his pulse sped up and his body tensed as icy fingers gripped his bony shoulder.

He spun around and leaned against the wall, his eyes wide at the man stood over him holding an intimidating looking knife over his head.

The man smiled creepily and his eyes narrowed as the hands pinned him about 4 feet above the ground. He growled softly as he struggled against the invisible bonds opening his eyes in the process.

The man reached up and with the knife thrust it into his shoulder. He didn't even feel the pain.

These dreams were so realistic; he hated it. His face was like his previous nightmares. It was completely shrouded in the dark, his eyes gleaming like a demented cat's. He inhaled, trying to gain self control. He would wake up any second now…he had to.

Before even realizing it, a tingling sensation filled his arm. Then a strange, very real burning sensation erupted from his shoulder blade. He grimaced in pain. His mind had yet to register the blatant, dismal truth.

It seemed to change just like that. The very real, tall man that leaned over his aching, tired, and injured body with a knife, its blade freshly coated in his blood, proved to Tony that in a matter of minutes, anything could happen.

* * *

GASP…a cliffhanger. What you poor readers to do while waiting for my poorly scheduled updates?? I think I know, REVIEW! I think it's easily repayable. I give you a hanger and you load my mailbox with reviews. I think it's only fair. :

Luvs, Ari

P.S.- What do you think should happen? Maybe death of a major character might be in order, something that no one suspects.


	11. You Don't Even Know

Title: Losing Innocence

Disclaimer: (sad face)

AN:I need some La La La love, or reviews! Enjoy the chapter, I'm rushing so hard to get these out in a normal time frame that you should definitely appreciate it!

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**Chapter 8- You Don't Even Know**

At first, he thought his mind was playing tricks on him. Maybe the pain was actually must worse than he felt, but more than anything he couldn't believe it was him.

He was unstable. He was angry, and even worse he seemed to have taken on his father's habit.

Shit, he needed another fix. And he had the knife.

The man paced around his small den, practically banging into his plasma wide screen at every other turn. Tony gazed at him wearily. He pressed down harder on the stab wound with his chin, trying to completely stop the bleeding. After nearly twenty minutes, the wound had slowed to a sluggish pace. He gritted his teeth, it hurt but he knew plenty of blood had gushed while he proceeded to be tied up.

"Man, you seriously need better hobbies" He groaned softly. The man snorted amused while checking his watch carefully, definitely watching out for something…or someone. "I've heard that bowling is fun. I'm sure our lab tech would be awfully glad to help you join a league." The man leaned in, his breath hot and the stench of garlic unbearable.

"Smart ass comments still. DiNozzo you always were a talker. I never could understand why my father or Mike didn't just shoot you; you bothered them all the time."

A harsh bitter laugh caught in his throat. Tony swallowed most of it. "Really? I guess you were just the apple of your papa's eye right?" he smirked. "You couldn't do real police work, you had to be an artist. The only reason you were at the station was because of him. Right, Jakey?"

A growl emitted from deep in his throat and Tony heard a muffled squeak from behind. Instead of continuing, Jake smiled.

Grinning the widest he could, "Well, look at that Meggy. He knows how to play the game." The man hissed and Tony spun around to look at an armchair in the corner of the room. Tied in ropes only three feet away from him was a young girl. She couldn't be older than fifteen. She was small boned and thin but beautiful. Her large green eyes were wide with fear and helplessness. Her thick reddish blonde curls were tied in a messed up bun but the dangling pieces were slick with grease from natural oils and sweat.

Her mouth was gagged and her hands were tied behind her cream colored strapless dress. Her eyes pleaded with him to help her, to save her. But he couldn't.

He was tied up as well. When he hadn't completely woken up still reeling from the pain, Sera hadn't wasted any time. He had tied his legs together, and grabbed anything he could use as a weapon.

Surprisingly the man, didn't gag him. It was a shock but he was relieved. He loathed the way, the gag felt in his mouth. Jake didn't seem to be very careful. Tony could feel the ropes loosely wrapped around his wrists, his legs the same. It was too awkward a job to be done right.

"DiNozzo, this is my next victim. The beautiful, talented Megan Jean." Sera hissed, moving closer to the girl despite muffled protests. "She's a sixteen year old with a mind for artwork."

"Ooh, she looks just like Julia. She was a really nice girl." He said, knowing that the mention of his dead ex girlfriend would rile him. "Beautiful wasn't she?"

"Maybe I should just kill her now while you're tied up." He laughed. "That would kill you wouldn't it. I wonder how you'd like her blood to splatter across your face. Her brain matter ending up on these walls, forever reminding you of your helplessness." It seemed that Sera knew where to prod him to make him bleed. It never happened where you didn't meet a serial killer that didn't have an excellent wit.

"God dammit, Sera. She has a life ahead of her they all did. Don't do this." He exclaimed. Tony glared at the man barely aware of the newfound anger he had rushing through his body. "Why? Why are you doing this?"

Sera chuckled his whole body shaking with laughter. He sniffed and winked at the young girl who looked away disgusted. "You must be joking DiNozzo. You always were a joker."

Then, his mood shifted to crazed and angry. Sera's hands shook and his face rose to the color of a cooked ripe tomato.

"How could you not know! You were the one that caused me to do this. All of these deaths, the children's deaths are all your fault!" he cried, throwing a small statue from a shelf toward Tony's head.

He ducked. The small blown glass shaped like a flamingo shattered into about a million pink fragments.

A slow feral growl burst from his throat. "You took her away. I loved her!"

"One small problem with that," Tony murmured as he reclaimed shirt to try to stop the small flickers of blood from the shards. Damn it. He could feel a piece in his shirt.

Ow.

"What??" he growled. Sera glanced downward toward Tony's form.

"I merely told her the truth because she would have found out anyway." He shook his head. "You didn't have to kill her. You could have told her about your little escapades." Tony hissed.

"Of course you had acted righteous. You mentioned to Billy Marshalls that you thought I was doing crack when you knew that he was undercover for the DEA, and you told Diana about my lady friends." He shouted, steeping closer toward Tony. He swung his hand at his face and flesh met flesh with a sharp sound.

The man stepped back as Tony shook his head from the dizziness. The punch had caught his teeth into the lining of his mouth and a metallic taste filled.

He spat out the blood onto the pile next to him and moaned, delicately working out the stiffness in his jaw.

Sera narrowed his eyes at them. "Don't move." He slid toward his bag, which sat precariously on the edge of the end table and dug out a cigar and a hypodermic needle. He swiftly left the room, leaving the two people that were tied up he left the room with easy access to Tony's cell phone and his gun.

The front door slammed shut and Tony hurried to move. He wiggled carefully out of the ropes tied loosely around his hands and gingerly removed the gag from the girl's mouth. She smiled gratefully at Tony who froze as the gradual sting from the knife decreased.

"If you loosen my arms I can help you slow the bleeding. My stepmother is a nurse." Megan whispered. Tony nodded and bent over further as the girl turned so her back was facing Tony. He gently untied the knots and the girl leaned forward to grab a tie Tony had let fallen to ground behind the chair days earlier.

She held the tie between two hands and placed it around the upper part of his shoulder, right on the small stab wound.

"I'm sorry you had to be dragged into this." He said as she finished tightening the tie in an artificial tourniquet.

"It's not your fault. I'm sixteen and I'm supposed to be one of the smartest at school. I should have known better but I put all the warnings behind and forgot." She sighed sadly and pulled the tie tightly. "Not many people like me because I'm shy and too booksmart. I may be pretty but nobody wants a girlfriend who stays home all the time to read or draw." She laughed bitterly. "The guys at school are going to have a cow after they hear this. Shy little Megan Elings was kidnapped. Who would have thought that the first guy that really paid attention to me would want to try to kill me?"

"Shocking isn't?" he asked. She chuckled lightly.

"I hope this isn't how life will turn out for me,"

"Don't keep your expectations up so high," Tony said. "Something good will come out of everything you go through. You're a smart girl."

"Sounds like it's coming from a person who has been through the storm and back again." She said, glimpsing around the room for her own cell phone and spotting it in the far corner, unsure of how the small bright green phone ended up there.

"Ooh, close. It seems that at least once a month someone tries to kidnap or kill me." He muttered shifting so he could grab the small penknife that was laced in his belt. He pulled the knife out and with the small blade he cut through the foot bindings of both his and Megan's.

He stood up shakily, his knees practically knocking into each other as he stood up. He closed his eyes and shook his head, weaving as the impending vertigo and light-headedness nearly sent him back down.

He was just about to grab the his cell phone that Sera left stupidly in plain sight when an unwelcome shout of surprise from the entering Sera jolted him into moving faster.

He dove for the phone just as the bastard seemed to burst into life. The drug induced high that he was swinging on seemed to overcharge him with energy, making Tony feel like a snail. He was barely moving fast enough and Sera made a grab for the phone as Tony sprang forward, his hands grasping into the empty air of where the phone used to sit.

He landed with a thud on the painful shoulder wound. He grimaced and curled his uninjured hand around the arm willing the pain to stop so he could wrestle the large man for the cell.

A sharp hoot of laughter, strangely familiar rang from above his head. Tony fell onto the carpet, now a musty reddish brown, with his own gun cocked above his throat, directly in the middle of his forehead only about two inches from his skull.

"Oh, Anthony. Stealth was never your strong point." He was shocked into not moving. Jake Sera wasn't the only one anymore. He could recognize that voice anywhere. The hoarse voice that shot out commands on a daily basis but didn't move a muscle himself could only belong to the one and only Lieutenant Jason Sera.

"You look a little shocked to see my daddy, Dibozo." Jake cackled using his old pet name for Tony.

"Well, it has been awhile." he shook his head out of the daze and grinned weakly. "I didn't think the old man would still be alive after years of drug abuse."

The younger of the two, dove forward, kicking Tony in the chest. Tony gasped, closing his eyes, leaning forward and struggling to catch his breath.

Jason Sera grinned showing all of his yellowing teeth, as he easily blocked the attacking sixteen year old while still holding the gun absolutely motionless. Using one of his meaty arms, he put the red head in a headlock. Despite her attempts to kick him where it would hurt, she barely got centimeters close to his crotch.

As the tiny boned girl struggled, the federally issued gun was aimed perfectly at Tony. It seemed that years of guest teaching sharpshooting at the Annapolis Police Academy had perfected the very skill that Tony wished he didn't have.

It was no use to try and jump him, despite his age and his poisonous hobby, Jason Sera had a reason to became the head of homicide. He had quick reflexes and excellent marksman skills.

With Megan safely tied up again, Sera Sr. turned his full attention on Tony. He laughed softly. "You never know when to quit do you, DiNozzo?" he knelt down in front of Tony and grinned grotesquely his teeth yellow from the continuous use of drugs and tobacco.

He pried off the tie that was stuck against the wet and bloodied shoulder of the agent. He stood up and threw the wet tie across the room, covering Megan's cell phone.

Suddenly, a single hand slipped around his ankle. It yanked his foot back, tripping Tony and then with a thud, the former head of homicide simply slammed the gun against the back of Tony skull.

"See you in the warehouse."

Without another glance to the unconscious man, Lieutenant Sera and his son dragged girl out of the apartment and into the warm August night.

* * *

Haha…I'm really sorry for the cliff, I swear, I'm just having way too much fun hurting him. At least you know he's alive? That has to be a good thing.

I actually had a weird thought last night, while I tried to fall asleep…it's kind of funny really. I always wondered how anyone would find a killer if the killer was someone who found other killers. Tiny bit ironic right?

Luvs, Ari


	12. Puzzle Pieces Pt I

**Losing Innocence**

**Chapter 9- Puzzle Pieces: Part1**

At exactly 0145 hours, Leroy Jethro Gibbs found himself at his desk, snoring quietly. With his head nestled in his arms and the quiet murmur of Channel 4 news constantly playing in the background, it was actually a pretty comfortable spot for someone who was a workaholic.

He was used to the different ways of getting some shut eye. Who knew where he would be when he got to take a quick nap to rejuvenate himself? It really didn't matter if he was in the Persian Gulf or if he was trying to catch a mass murderer that cost him about forty dollars worth of coffee to stay awake for three extra hours.

It was almost fruitless to try to sleep. The agency would be up and running in under four hours and by that point the most important teams would be working to solve their case or undercover assignments.

McGee and Abby were crammed together in her lab to look for the present address for two men with too many people available to help them in a moment.

McGee and Abby had been trying for almost an hour and they hadn't gotten much farther. Gibbs had sent Ziva and Tony home; they couldn't do much work on the computer they weren't specialized in those areas of expertise. Speaking to the ex-wife had to wait until at least the sun was up and the same went to his children.

It seemed like just the right time to take a nap. If only other people felt that way.

"Special Agent Gibbs!" an annoyingly familiar voice rang shrilly through his dream. From the way the Coronas tasted and the way that the sun was shinning he could have only been in Mexico. Damn, he hated reality.

"Special Agent Gibbs!" He moved to sit up unaware of the voice located right next to his ear. He hit the younger man hard with his thick skull and with a yelp of surprise the announcement was cut short.

Gibbs yawned and blinked trying to get the sleep from his eyes. The younger man, the same mailroom technician from three days earlier, rubbed his jaw and with his trademark eye roll, that made most of the agency wish to slap him, and handed Gibbs a fat envelope.

"No package with it, correct?" Gibbs asked tearing the letter open with his finger.

"No, sir." Gibbs nodded and picked through the scraps of paper that were jaggedly left at the top. The technician walked back to his cart an angry expression plastered on his face. "Have a nice night. I mean it's not like a thank you is necessary…." The young man murmured under his breath under his breath as he walked away. .

Gibbs examined the envelope. Thick messy cursive wrote out his full name and stamped across the top in bright red lettering were the words 'urgent'. So that was the reason the little messenger was in such a bad mood. He could have been snoozing peacefully in the mailroom but had to deliver the one piece of mail to Gibbs.

Laughing quietly to himself, Gibbs thought about the high chance that the letter included something about an old friend dying, an important mission or about a leadership paper he had to pick up straight away.

He pulled the papers out one by one, puzzled by what was on each. At the first look, he couldn't even decipher what was going on because the lighting surrounding the blurry outline was really dark. Examining it closer he was startled to see that it was a photo of himself.

It was from at least a couple of weeks ago. He recognized the shirt as one of his old working-on-the-boat T-shirts. He had just come back from grabbing a cup of coffee, the Starbucks bag clamped in his hand.

With slight apprehension, Gibbs picked through the pictures he held in his hands and found one more of him through the window of his basement working hard on his boat and drinking bourbon. There were two other pictures of himself at work with NCIS.

There were two pictures of McGee. One at work and one outside his apartment talking with a neighbor. Ziva had four. All of which were pretty nondescript except for the last where she was a little too close to Tony.

Tony seemed to be the center of most of the attention. There had to be at least eight pictures of him alone. Several were of him at his apartment, two were running in the park and the last was him at NCIS. Not only did the man have an unnatural obsession with the Ten Little Indians, he was all over Tony.

The envelope that was so fat before was now flat and empty. All eighteen of the pictures were spread over Gibbs' desk. A small strip of paper almost identical to the paper mailed before was also tucked into the envelope. He would have missed it if it wasn't for the burst of wind that came from the open window.

_I like to play favorites… Can you guess who I want Special Agent?_

The cryptic message didn't mean much to a normal thinker but Gibbs was an out of the box kind of guy and it meant something of great importance.

"McGee!" Gibbs spoke quietly into his cell phone. The great intensifying tone, had a meaning of it's own. "Call Ziva to meet us at Tony's apartment and get your gun. The man's with DiNozzo." He shouldered his holster and speed-walked to the elevator. McGee was on his way up the stairs at the time so he followed closely behind cell phone to his ear. Clearly, Gibbs had gotten the underlying meaning of the message that was not said.

* * *

Very short, I know so no anger please. It was way too long to have the entire chapter in one part so enjoy until probably tomorrow…or so.

Review, my mailbox is feeling the lack of love, or wait patiently for the next. Either way I'm glad you lot like this. I'm really pleased that people are reacting this way, I never imagined this could happen. It's quite a shock!

Luvs, Ari


	13. Puzzle Pieces Pt II

**Losing Innocence**

**Disclaimer: I'm a loser :P, seriously I have no life.**

**Puzzle Pieces: Part 2**

They reached Tony's apartment building in record time. Gibbs drove with McGee and Ziva drove up as they did from the opposite direction.

The apartment complex was nice. It wasn't overly showy alike they imagined. The design and flair of the building made it seem rich but pleasant at the same time. It was a neat brownstone with large windows on every floor surrounded with neat frames.

The race up the stairs seemed even longer than the drive. The three agents rushed through the hallways, almost shoving an older man with a sickly tabby back into his doorway.

They made it to apartment 4D in short pace nearly missing the door because of the similarities with all of the others. Gibbs knocked calmly, taking both Ziva and McGee by surprise at his manners.

He waited about five seconds and with no answer he lifted his foot and slammed it open, Gibbs' style. The oak wood door slammed into the sage green paint with an echoing bang, leaving a large black scrape along the wall.

There was no answer. Not a shout, or a gunshot…not even a whimper. They hadn't thought about the chance that he would take Tony with him. It didn't even make sense that the man came to see Tony. They understood that he seemed to be the point of revenge to Sera but why try to take him?

Motioning with his hands they split up, guns held unsurely in front.

Surprisingly, Tony's apartment was remarkably clean. A few dish towels were next to the small sink and an empty bowl sat in the very sink. Moving into the rest of the apartment, Ziva was shocked at the neatness. It wasn't how most bachelor pads looked like.

Gibbs had followed Ziva into the kitchen but ducked into the tiny hallway connecting it to his bathroom and bedroom. They were both small rooms but dressed comfortably in rich warm colors that were very inviting.

Of course Gibbs had already seen his apartment. There were only so many times he could be on concussion watch with DiNozzo. By the second time, he knew where the icepacks were and where the guns were hidden and the topless picture of Pamela Anderson was hidden.

McGee dashed silently to the open living room. He nearly prayed that they wouldn't find him in the apartment. If he was in the apartment there was a bigger chance of Tony being dead. Why would a killer take a dead man with him? It was almost funny in a not so comical way, thinking like that.

The most hysterical part was that they didn't even know whether he had actually been to his apartment. It was guesswork. It was logic. For all they knew, Tony could be peacefully sleeping in his bed, and then his tone would twist sardonically when he teased them about their mistake.

Draping across the far wall of the larger living room was a comfortable looking black leather sofa. A thick, woolen Afghan was laid haphazardly across the couch as if someone had been shaken awake and thrown it back. It helped lessen some of McGee's fears and also elevated them. They knew that Tony had originally been in the apartment so that could go either way; he could be dead…or alive.

The entertainment center was across from the couch, and it only displayed a large 50-inch LCD TV, it wires hidden in the woodwork surrounding it. A tall stained oak bookshelf was beside a luxurious black armchair. Unexpectedly, the books were organized nicely and someone had taken evident care in making sure that it wasn't dusty.

McGee leaned onto the armchair, and picked up a book. He almost opened the page when a sticky substance found its way to his hands.

The substance was thick and reminded McGee of sugary maple syrup his aunt in Vermont used to make. The thick maple syrup that was sugary sweet to the tongue and the perfect color to use at Halloween. Just a drop of food coloring and he had been a picture perfect vampire.

He flicked the light on carefully, making sure not to drip or coat the fixture with the substance.

It some part of his mind, he knew that it would be blood. It wasn't natural to have syrup covering a book, and sadly he was right.

The blood on the cover of the hard cover book was new and it was a deep burgundy red that contrasted sharply against the white of the pages. He grasped the book and with a single step backwards he knew that the pit of dread in his stomach had grown to an inexplicable level.

He knelt down, the Chinese food that he and Abby shared for dinner climbed up his esophagus, and he spotted a tie drenched in blood. The same tie, his friend and partner had been wearing that day.

He picked it up gingerly, holding it tightly between two fingers. The tie felt stiff and when he picked it up it cracked slightly.

He had hardly noticed the musty red carpet, stain reaching instead for his flashlight, pausing only for a split second to grasp the possibility that it was his. He pulled the flashlight from his belt and drew back at the sight of a man covered in blood leaning feebly against the chair. It was definitely Tony.

"Gibbs!" he shouted his voice echoing through the small apartment. "I found him!" He pulled a strip off an old shirt hung over the side of a chair and applied pressure to the wound that was leaking the blood.

He nearly jumped when Tony let out a soft moan and tried to resist the pressure. Gibbs and Ziva were suddenly behind him. Ziva and McGee changed positions and she held pressure while he and Gibbs gingerly tried to examine him for other wounds.

"Ambulance?" Gibbs soft question was barely heard by McGee who was peering out the window. He shook his head and looked through the hallway that Ziva and Gibbs had come from.

"Not yet." Ziva instead answered. She took the towels that McGee had fetched from the bathroom and handed one to Gibbs and held the washcloth to Tony's head wound. "I called them when McGee yelled. They said they were five minutes out. They'll be here soon."

She spoke almost tenderly to Tony. She wiped the blood carefully and gently probed the spot resulting in an awkward groan from the still unconscious man.

Tony's eyes fluttered gently. He was forcing himself conscious and it seemed to be a losing battle.

"come on DiNozzo, let me see those green eyes," Gibbs coached, rather demanding that Tony open his eyes.

Tony, never one to back down a command, he squeezed his eyes tiredly then forced them open. Ziva watched him carefully, rubbed away some blood that had dripped from his hairline with a towel and nearly ended in his eyebrow.

Gibbs made him follow his flashlight with his eyes. It was a slow moving effort on Tony's part but he seemed relatively okay if they ignored the pale skin and various bleeding wounds.

They moved him slowly, making sure not to jar his shoulder or bang his head.

"That's not cool" he murmured, feeling sick to his stomach along with a pulsating headache. Tony leaned his head against the armchair and with a grimace

"We were hoping you could tell us what," Ziva murmured. Tony closed his eyes as the memories from only previous moments assaulted him. They were only flashes but they held powerful memories and important details.

_Young girl…Lieutenant…Megan…warehouse…Megan…tie…Megan…blood…Megan!!_

He jolted out of his daze and with sharp fearful eyes he met Gibbs'.

"He has another." He whispered. "Megan…" he cursed when he couldn't remember her last name. He was almost sure that she had said told him. "She's with him, She was with him when he was at my apartment." He cursed. "Boss, he's gonna kill her if we don't move."

"You aren't. We are." Gibbs pointed to himself and the others as Tony's face grew red with anger.

"I am too. This is my guy. I deserve to put him away for good." He insisted. "I feel fine, I don't need anything."

"Your shoulder would disagree." Ziva murmured, watching Tony smugly. He glared at her.

"The only thing I need is to find and kill these bastards."

"Bastards?" McGee asked. "With an _s_?"

Tony exhaled sharply forgetting that they didn't know. "Oh yes, McGee. Sera Sr. and Jr." He smiled disgustingly. "They were both there. And they're planning another murder. He has Megan." He reinforced. "We need to find her, before he kills her."

McGee stood up walking around to the window by the door, when a flash of green caught his attention.

He frowned looking down. "This doesn't belong to you does it?" he lifted up the phone with the fold of his suit, careful not to touch it with his skin. "Of course not."

He closed his eyes for a moment, realizing the impact the phone made on all of their problems. "If we can use this to get them to call, maybe we can triangulate their location if they call?" he murmured.

He looked up suddenly and nodded to Gibbs before the open door slammed once again into the wall and dozens of medical personnel began bombarding the only injured person in the room.

The two others moved out of the way and closer to McGee who was elated at his recent discovery.

"I'm going to go back. I just thought of something." McGee barely managed to say before sprinting out of the apartment.

It was so vague to understand but both Gibbs and Ziva had a gist of what he meant. McGeek had an idea.

* * *

He tapped the keys intently every few seconds glancing up at the screen. Abby followed his movements, watching him in awe.

He pressed a few more irritating seconds for more information to pop up so he could work out the problems.

He smiled. He had some really brilliant epiphanies in the last few hours…maybe the lack of sleep was a good thing? He grinned even broader as the computer made a ticking noise as it ran through information suddenly bleeping loudly when it found information.

It even seemed coincidental when Tony's whine filled the entire room as his voice floated down the hallway from the elevator.

"But I'm fine, I swear." Tony murmured stepping behind Gibbs and into the lab. Abby instantly ran to Tony, wrapping him into an awkward hug that he didn't return.

He grimaced in pain, shrugging out of her grip, holding his shoulder that was in a sling.

"So, maybe you're not that fine." McGee muttered. Tony glared at him and McGee turned away, his back to the team continuing to search for any information.

"I'm great. I'll go on desk duty when the Seras are off the street." Tony growled. "Anything McGee?"

McGee shared a look with Abby before turning back to his work. "Um, I think I found something." He pressed a button and another screen popped up. "Apparently, the Sera's own some waterfront property. A warehouse on the bay."

"Warehouse…?" Tony asked, he looked momentarily stunned, squeezing his eyes to remember something.

He knew he should have remembered it. Something, before they left. Before he was unconscious. He couldn't place it.

"I think, Jason might have said something about a warehouse." He lifted a finger before any of them could interrupt, carefully concentrating. "Maybe, see you there?"

Gibbs smirked. "Mr. Sera, might have just led us to their end." He placed his coffee on the table. "Address, McGee."

"Warehouse number 4."

Gibbs nodded, turning to Tony who followed behind. "Since there is no way you'll stay here without being restrained, so watch your back and use what you know about the Seras to your advantage." He smirked as the elevator bell dinged. "You never know, we could end it tonight."

* * *

So, here we go, off to save Megan.

Ooh, sorry for spoilers but I can't contain myself and my family doesn't want to hear my opinion of the latest episode...So did anybody see it? It was pretty good. It was really weird but throughout the fight scene I couldn't help but thinking how much I loved those shoes…lord, I am such a girl.

Luvs, Ari

P.S: Did anyone else want to dive through the TV and push Tony and Ziva on top of one another? I could seriously feel the sexual tension.

P.P.S: Whooo! Review please, my mailbox really liked all the attention it got! Thanks again to everyone!!


	14. One Little Indian

**Losing Innocence**

Can you honestly imagine that I originally planned for like a 8 chapter story? This got kind of out of hand…in a good way.

You should thank the magnificent Who songs currently repeating on my itunes for the ending. Somehow, it was a ton easier to write when I was listening to 8 freakin' minute long songs. Who knew?

**Chapter 14- One Little Indian**

They slipped into the dank warehouse soundly, following one another in a tight, single line.

As far as the team was concerned it felt just like any other time. They didn't have any history with the suspects. It was just another time. To Tony it was different story. The man, Sera Sr. of course, had problems. His son was a loser. They always seemed to have a deep hatred for him even in the beginning. It only got worse, when he "accidentally" mentioned to that DEA agent or when he told the girlfriend.

His shoulder ached. His head ached. The pain was irritating but it was a substantial reminder of why he was following behind Gibbs and into the damp, sea smelling large central room.

He set his face into grimace and nearly stopped in his tracks as he heard the hoarse voice he unfortunately knew.

In front of him, Gibbs and Ziva stopped and McGee skidded to a stop behind him also. With a gulp Tony leaned closer against the thin wall to hear and see the conversation before they could see him.

They could barely hear it. Tony moved a little slipping a little closer but sure to stay in the shadows. He could see clearly into the room. Megan was once again tied to a chair. The hard, wooden back dug into her shoulder blades but she never once cried or pleaded. Even as they laughed and mocked her, particularly Jake, she didn't.

Tony could feel the fiery anger burning inside. He just wanted to get to the point and kill them. Both.

"It's time." The older whispered. Instantly, the four froze waiting for what was to happen. "Oh, Anthony you can come out."

Tony swallowed the need to snap a response and instead shared a single pointed nod with Gibbs before stepping out of the shadows and from behind the large bay door.

He grimaced, putting on a little show about the amount of pain he was in. It always helped to look weaker. Surprise was the key.

"Hello, Anthony." Jason Sera Sr. said pleasantly, he smoked a cigarette, wafting the smell into his direction. "Megan decided to join us. And this time without protest."

The younger cackled. "Yeah, dad. Too bad she's the prettiest. I might have wanted to keep her."

Tony dug his nails into his fist struggling hard not to grab the gun currently attached to hip and shoot both of them with Ziva's accuracy.

"You can't keep her Jakey. She's a person, not a puppy." He scoffed, taking a small step toward the chair. The sharp click of cocking the gun told him not to move any further.

Jake Sera barred his teeth, looking like a rabid dog for a second. "You can't tell me what I should do. Look at the situation you're in Dibozo."

His father coughed in agreement, taking another drag of the cigarette. He was the one that pointed the gun at him.

Tony stared at the cocky, obnoxious man his anger almost at a boiling point. He was leaning casually against a stack of crates, his Glock pointing defiantly at Tony.

"What's the matter Detective?" Jason Sr. asked. "Nothing witty grazing the brilliant little mind of yours."

Tony's fingers inched closer to the gun. He didn't answer. Jason Sr. grinned, playing with the gun, distracting Tony from what his son was doing.

Jake sneaked up, grabbing the gun and pinning it behind his head, at the base of his neck.

"You're right dad. Stealth is useful." The cool metal almost felt comfortable behind his neck. The barrel was pressed into his neck but he wasn't watching either of them. Megan was watching him and he was watching her.

Even though she couldn't speak, her eyes spoke volumes. She was watching him intently, trying to convey a special message.

"Kill her." Jason Sera insisted. "Quickly, DiNozzo's team is here."

"Course. " The younger released Tony's neck from the barrel and instead pointed his gun at her.

It happened too fast. With shouts and blaring lights, the team burst inside almost on cue. The furious bangs dropped Tony to the ground and he covered his head.

It was over before he knew it. And shockingly enough he was covered in blood.

He shuddered quietly, not feeling any pain and eventually reasoning that it wasn't his blood. He chanced a look up and regretfully he met the sickly, pain filled eyes of Megan. Bittersweet. Her life her just begun and just as quickly it was ending.

He crawled over to the small girl who was now clasping her upper chest. He tugged off the tape around her mouth before applying pressure to her wound.

It was gushing startling red blood, almost seeming like there was too much to be in her tiny body.

"Hold on, Megan. We're gonna get some help." He said. She swallowed, suddenly beginning to shake. "You're going to be okay."

She shook her head. They both knew he was lying. She wasn't going to make it. "Th—than—thank" her voice was weak and shallow, her harsh forced breaths to much to allow talk and breathing.

An unpleasant gurgling developed and she stopped making any sound. Her lips formed the word "you" before her eyes slipped shut, her life gone out with them.

He slumped back, his hands nearly burgundy. Ziva placed a hand on his shoulder and gestured to the two unconscious men handcuffed and watched carefully by the now arriving police officers.

Despite the pain of her death, a symbol of his inability to save her, he smiled. Jason Sera had a bullet between the eyes and his son seemed in a similar compromising position.

He couldn't help; something went right.

Tony collapsed at his desk, very glad that it was over. He still had blood on his hands, her blood. If he hadn't stopped to turn off his computer and grab his car keys from his desk he would have never noticed the letter that lay on his desk. The mailmen must have put it on his desk when they had all gone out.

Dear Detective DiNozzo,

It seems you just don't know when to stop. It's too bad, really. If you did we might have been able to stop you from getting yourself killed:

_No little Indians left to hunt down. Guess we'll have to find you._

As threatening as it really was, Tony let out a huge booming broken laughter at the irony of the situation.

He couldn't honestly bring himself to think if he had been a little slower at realizing what was going on, or if McGee had been unable to use the phone, or if Ziva hadn't been so quick to shoot Sera in the head what might have happened.

He crumpled the letter in his hands, juggling it from one hand to the other ignoring the burn that reemerged whenever he moved his wrist. He couldn't really understand it. If he had been reasoning clearly, he would have known that never, in a million years would he be able to truly grasp the reason even if he knew why.

It was too difficult. The logic they used was so far from his own, it was hard to place. He shook his head, gently massaging the four small stitches on his hairline.

It was kind of reassuring. He would never be in the same playing field as the killers but now with the Sera fiasco he could evenly pretend to be. It would make undercover assignments that much easier.

Still, her death loomed over his shoulders. He couldn't stand feeling like he let her down. He shut his eyes briefly, relaying her last few breaths in his head.

It hurt. She had wanted to thank him. She didn't want to tell him that she hated him for not saving her; she wanted to say thanks for trying. It really hurt. She had such potential. She was so young.

The bad completely over weighed the single good reason he imagined. He drew in a shuddering breath, wishing he could scrub the blood off of his hands, but knowing firsthand that they would be raw if he tried to wash them again.

He opened his eyes. As much as it killed him that she had been the last victim, the only one that he had the possibility to save, he realized rather reluctantly that her death had given him some kind of finality. Maybe now he could move on.

Even though his head felt heavy, mentally and physically, Tony's heart was clear. It did ache for the ten girls murdered but for now, it was at peace. The day's events were finally setting in it but Tony felt renewed.

He angled his arm and threw the paper. The crumbled ball with the perfect trajectory struck the small file cabinet by McGee's desk and with practiced ease, bounced into the empty waste basket.

The perfect shot brought everything together. It was an analogy just waiting to be explicated. The shot symbolized the end. The end of a mystery. The end of case.

The closure that he longed for could finally be achieved.

**The End**

* * *

I never thought I would be able to finish this. Nuts.

Please review with your opinion. I would love to know what everyone thought of the story as a whole. Even if you don't I am overjoyed with the amount of reviews/alerts/favorites this got. Thank you so much for making this a worthy cause.

As this might be my last time dwelling into NCIS, I would love to say that all the writers in this section are amazing and many of my ideas sprouted from reading other's work. Thank you.

Ciao(and luvs),

Ari


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